


Trust Issues

by AdelenMontgomery



Series: If Only [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard, Deaf Clint Barton, Mutants, One-Sided Relationship, Other, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychic Abilities, Psychological Torture, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 33,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5643283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdelenMontgomery/pseuds/AdelenMontgomery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’d still like to think she’s innocent in all this,” said Steve.<br/>“I’m with the Captain. Guys, she’s still a kid,” Bruce implored.<br/>“Did you miss the part where she spent over a year with an evil smurf?”<br/>“Tony’s right. She spent a lot of time with Loki. She also had a lot of contact with HYDRA. Her personal guard, the Winter Soldier, is a highly trained assassin for HYDRA. Even if she isn’t in league with Loki, she could be HYDRA,” Natasha commented.<br/>“I want to believe that she is innocent, but my brother may have warped her mind in his maddened state. I think we should proceed cautiously.”<br/>“Clint? You’ve been quiet,” noted Natasha.<br/>“You were the one that talked to her, what do you think? Can we trust her?” asked Steve. Clint shifted in his chair. There were a lot of variables on the table.<br/>(Possibly can be read w/o reading Part 1)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Here For the View

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place about three days after the end of "The Midgardian Girl." It would be her fifth day in SHIELD custody. She is at about 20 weeks.

Miranda sat in a chair with her feet up, staring out at the city. D.C. wasn’t as destroyed as New York had been, and it was soothing. She had been expecting the whole world to be in complete and utter destruction, but it seemed that things had stayed relatively the same. Aside from the effects that she had personally experienced, it was like nothing had changed.

At least that’s what some of the news articles made it seem like. Miranda had done some digging and found news and even SHIELD reports of the events, beginning with the initial attack. It had been dubbed ‘The Battle of Manhattan.’ 

Miranda set the tablet down on the table and closed her eyes. It was all so much.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Hm?” Miranda opened her eyes. “Be my guest, Clint.” She leaned back again and sighed.

“You’re not in here for the view.”

“No. Neither are you.” She noticed him flinch. “I’m not in your head. I… I don’t like doing that. It’s invasive.”

“You said yourself that you’ve done it.”

“I know, and I did. But, it was… different somehow. Now, I guess since I’m not scared anymore, it doesn’t seem necessary. Or ethical.”

“I suppose,” he said. “Things are different in war.”

“Why are you here, Clint? We both admitted we aren’t here for the view.”

“I wanted to talk to you. I’ve been thinking about the things you said a few days ago, during the debriefing. I’m not judging,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “It’s just, I think I kinda know what you went through.”

“Oh, really?” she snapped. 

“Hey, I said kinda. Before Manhattan, I was under the influence of Loki’s sceptre. All I’m saying is that I know what it’s like to do things against your will.”

“For the most part, everything was my decision. No one was holding a gun to my head.”

“Sometimes they don’t have to. I read Agent May’s report about the White House. I agree with her that you’re extremely self-sacrificing. Plus, you’ve got a whole list of people that you’re worried about. You even wrote their names down.” 

“What are you trying to say?” Miranda sighed. She was starting to get irritated.

“Sometimes it’s more effective to point a gun at someone else’s head.” Miranda chewed on her lip. “In a situation like what you went through, you stop caring about your life. It’s everyone else that matters.”

“I should of died,” Miranda blurted. “Not just the--” she gestured to her head-- “but a lot of other times, too. I should have been executed half a dozen times. I don’t understand why I wasn’t.”

“I don’t either. When you aren’t locking yourself away in random rooms--” Clint gestured around them-- “you give Tony a run for his money with your wit. And Loki threw him out of a window for it.” Miranda was quiet for awhile.

“Clint,” she began slowly, “I want to talk to him. Loki.”

“Uh, I’m not sure about that,” he replied, rubbing the back of his head. “But I can ask for you.”

“Thank you,” she said with a small smile. After a moment’s pause, she added, “You probably think I’m crazy for wanting to.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to go near him, but I’m not you. And I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Why don’t you want to go near him?” Clint sighed.

“He’s not exactly what you would call mentally stable.”

“I know that much. Why is he still here then? I thought he was going to be tried on Asgard.” Miranda shifted to sit with her elbows on her knees, but her baby bulge prevented it. She scowled and settled for just resting her feet on the floor.

“Problems?” Clint chuckled.

“No. Now answer my question.”

“It’s complicated.” He rubbed the back of his head again. “And I haven’t had enough coffee to dive into this.”

“Fine,” Miranda sighed, slouching back into the chair. “I s’pose it works to my advantage since I want to talk to him.” She started blinking more and her jaw clenched, a change that didn’t go unnoticed by Clint.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just hormones,” Miranda replied, her voice watery and brittle. She chewed on her cheek. Clint waited in silence. After a minute or two, Miranda let out a watery laugh. “Hormones, the end-all excuse pregnant women have. I always figured I’d have kids one day, but  _ later _ . I’m not even 22 yet! And here I am!” She gestured to her stomach, voice cracking. She sniffled and brushed her tears away. “I’m sorry, you don’t wanna hear this.”

“It’s fine. Sometimes you just need to vent.” Miranda nodded, wiping away stray tears. 

“Should probably get a therapist. I’m pretty fucked up.”

“Most of us are.” Miranda raised an eyebrow, but let the silence grow. 

Down the hall, they could hear someone coming closer. They sounded really excited. Clint and Miranda stood and faced the door as it opened. Miranda recognized the excited scientist from the day before. Her companion appeared in the doorway a moment after.

“Jemma, slow down,” he complained. 

“Hello, Agent Barton,” greeted Jemma. “Miss Douglas.”

“Dr. Simmons,” Clint replied. “Dr. Fitz. Well, I’ll be going then. I’ll ask Fury about that conversation, Miranda.”

“Thank you.” Clint left and the pair of scientists came further into the room. Simmons was practically vibrating. “I guess you got your tests done,” Miranda addressed her.

“Yes, and I--we-- found something amazing.” She tapped on her pad’s screen. “Take a look.” Miranda took the tablet and glanced over the images and numbers. 

“I don’t know what any of this means,” she admitted, handing the pad back to Simmons.

“Jemma found an anomaly in your blood.”

“At first I thought it was because of the fetus--”

“But when we ran the sample of amniotic fluid against it--”

“The anomaly didn’t match--”

“So, since you were a blood donor, we wanted to get a sample of your blood from before to compare it to, which we actually somehow managed to do--”

“And the anomaly was there too, but not as strongly.”

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down. What was the anomaly?” Miranda asked. 

“Your DNA isn’t completely human,” Simmons answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any questions that you want answered, let me know! Either I will answer them personally, or I will put them in the story to be answered.  
> That being said, I'll wait a few extra days before posting the next chapter so that y'all can send in your questions, if you have any. Thanks!


	2. Maybe Not, Maybe So

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I would wait, and I did, but I haven't gotten any questions yet. I'm still open to your questions, but I came up with a list of my own that I think are important to answer. As it stands, I have delayed Miranda's conversation with Loki. But it WILL happen eventually.

Clint got to the elevator before Tony jumped into his ear. How the man managed to hack into hearing aids, Clint never cared to find out.

“Legolas, hurry up. We wanna hear what she said.” Clint rolled his eyes. They were only two floors up, but Stark was impatient. So was the rest of the team, but they weren’t as vocal about it. 

“You couldn’t wait two minutes?” Clint asked as he entered the room. He plopped down into a chair and pulled the tiny microphone out of his shirt. “You’re lucky my morality died awhile ago, Stark.”

“You’re a spy, isn’t it in the job description?” Tony quipped, snatching the device and plugging it into a computer. “Alright JARVIS, what do we have?”

“Playing back the audio now, sir.”

“ _ You’re not here for the view _ ,” Clint’s voice rang out through the speakers.

“ _ Neither are you _ ,” came Miranda’s response. The team listened to the conversation in silence. Natasha was the first to speak when it ended.

“Her reactions seem genuine. She might have an ulterior motive though. After all, she wants to talk to Loki.”

“She has spent a lot of time alone in my brother’s company. What questions could she have for him?” asked Thor.

“He’s not exactly forthcoming. She’s brave, but her life was constantly in danger. I wouldn’t want to ask him questions if he wasn’t on the other side of a pane of glass either,” said Bruce. “And from what I remember, she didn’t know a lot of things.”

“Like what?” asked Steve. 

“Well, when we met, she didn’t know she was in Stark Tower. If Loki didn’t reveal that harmless piece of information, it’s doubtful that he would have told her more important things.”

“Yeah, but that was like, what, a month after she had been there? She was with him for over a year and a half, only three months of which were in my tower. He could have told her other things after you met her.”

“Pillow talk is a good way to get information,” Natasha added. “And from her account, she was very aware of her position.”

“I’d still like to think she’s innocent in all this,” said Steve. 

“I’m with the Captain. Guys, she’s still a kid,” Bruce implored.

“Did you miss the part where she spent over a year with an evil smurf?”

“Tony’s right. She spent a lot of time with Loki. She also had a lot of contact with HYDRA. Her personal guard, the Winter Soldier, is a highly trained assassin for HYDRA. Even if she isn’t in league with Loki, she could be HYDRA,” Natasha commented. 

“I want to believe that she is innocent, but my brother may have warped her mind in his maddened state. I think we should proceed cautiously.”

“Clint? You’ve been quiet,” noted Natasha.

“You were the one that talked to her, what do you think? Can we trust her?” asked Steve. Clint shifted in his chair. There were a lot of variables on the table. 

“I think she’s the victim here and she wants closure. I mean, she has that list of names. I’m no psychologist, but I doubt she would have made it if she were working with Loki or HYDRA. I do want to trust her, but we have to be careful. Caution is our best option,” he finished with a sigh. He wasn’t sure if the real question wasn’t whether or not  _ she _ trusted  _ them _ .

*****

Miranda was dumbstruck. 

“What do you mean ‘not completely human?’”

“There are a few slight variations in your DNA,” Simmons explained, pointing them out on the tablet. “Human DNA doesn’t have them, but most of your DNA matches what we know as human.”

“So is that how I survived the, uh, thing?” Miranda asked, pointing at her head.

“It’s the prevailing theory, yes.”

“Cool.” Her voice sounded strangled. “Um, if I’m not human, what am I?” The scientists were silent for a moment.

“We’re not sure,” admitted Fitz. “We’re running tests now, to compare against Thor and Loki’s DNA.” Miranda nodded. “We’ll let you know when we have more.”

“Thank you. It doesn’t answer how I survived, but it’s something. More than I had before.” She smiled softly. “Really, thank you.”

“Not a problem, Miss Douglas,” said Simmons. The pair left her, already chattering about possible theories. Miranda smiled softly as she placed a hand on her stomach to calm the fluttering from the baby. 

“Hear that? Your mother isn’t human either,” she whispered. 

******

Miranda’s sleep was fretful. She kept feeling the familiar prickle of someone trying to enter her mind, but the source was unfamiliar. It felt distant, despite the strength of the sensation. And it was old-- no, ancient. Loki’s power was old, but this was much, much older. Miranda was terrified, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep holding them off. She wasn’t getting any sleep anyway. 

As soon as she dropped her defenses, they swooped into her mind and stole her away. In her mind, she opened her eyes and found herself standing in the most beautiful and strange garden she had ever seen. 

“Finally,” a woman huffed. “My son trained you far better than I expected. He was never very good at shielding himself.” Miranda turned around and saw the speaker sitting on a marble bench. “Come, sit,” she said with such authority it may as well have been an order. Miranda did as she was asked, and noticed that here she wasn’t pregnant. A wave of relief crashed down over her. The woman raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. 

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“Oh, no, my dear child. I only wanted to meet you.”

“Who are you?”

“I am Frigga, mother of Thor and Loki.” Miranda repressed a shudder at the mention of his name. In this mindscape it was harder to hide her true emotions. She was way out of her depth, and she knew it. “And I know who you are, my dear. I wanted to speak with you before you came to Asgard.”

“What?” Miranda interrupted. “I’m not coming to Asgard.”

“And how do you plan on raising your child in a world that will hate him?”

“No one will know that he is his son. He will be safe.”

“Loki never showed you,” Frigga realized.

“Showed me what?”

“His true form. He is a Jotun, my dear.”

“I know that he’s a Frost Giant. The legends always made it seem like they looked human, and Loki does. I don’t understand, what ‘true form?’” 

“It’s something you’ll have to ask him to show you. He will show you.”

“And why would he do that?” Miranda snipped, growing irritated. 

“Because he loves you, my dear. He trusts you completely.” Miranda’s jaw clenched.

“No, he doesn’t. I was nothing more than a plaything,” Miranda argued, rising. “I mean nothing to him. All he ever did was toy with me, play with my emotions, make me think that I loved him. He is the master of lies, and the god of tricks. And I fell for it,” she continued, her voicing rising to a shout.

“Oh, my dear, you are so far from the truth,” Frigga said, pity softening the edges of her words. 

“Even if I am, why do you care?”

“A mother cares for her children, my dear. She wants what is best for them. I have seen the impact that you have on my son, and his affection for you is strong. And you return it,” Frigga said, as though it was the simplest thing in the world.

“I don’t,” Miranda growled, turning away. “I told you, he tricked me. What I think I feel, what you think I feel-- it is a lie, a trick, a falsehood stemming from the fragile human psyche.”

“You call it ‘Stockholm Syndrome,’ correct?” Frigga asked gently, slowly rising from the bench. “This ‘falsehood?’”

“Yes,” Miranda replied. 

“I have seen Midgardians with it, and you, my dear, are so much stronger than them. For you, it is a smokescreen to hide how you truly feel.” Frigga closed the distance between them, and rested a hand on Miranda’s abdomen, the bump suddenly appearing in the mindscape. “You belong on Asgard, Miranda.”

Miranda jolted awake, a cool sheen of sweat covering her entire body. She expected her heart to be hammering in her chest, but it wasn’t. It was as calm as ever. Miranda lay still for a few minutes, carefully mulling over everything Frigga had said to her. Perhaps going to Asgard wasn’t such a bad idea. Her son was going to need special care, care that Miranda doubted could be found on Midgard in the best of times, and certainly not now.

So later that day when Thor invited her to Asgard, she agreed without hesitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was kinda hard to write Frigga because I don't really know much about her, so I decided to play on her role as a mother in addition to her cunning. I'm not sure if her speaking pattern matches the MCU, so let's just say that her mothering style sort of matches what her audience expects a good mother to be like (aside from the teensy bit of manipulation).


	3. Sometimes Not Saying Something Is Bad, Other Times You Should Keep Your Mouth Shut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Asgard!

It came as a shock to all the Avengers when Miranda immediately agreed to go to Asgard. They had all been convinced that it would be harder to convince her than Fury, so when that didn’t happen, it seemed like a red flag. Well, until she explained why she agreed. 

“Frigga, uh, visited me last night. There are things I’d like to discuss with her in person now, and I’ve realized that Midgard isn’t exactly the best place to raise the son of Loki. People probably hate him already,” she shrugged. “Right now it seems like Asgard is the safest place for both of us.”

“Both of you?” questioned Steve.

“I’ve been reading up on the last year,” she admitted. “The media doesn’t have anything friendly to say about me. They got a lot of pictures of Loki and I at the Palais Garnier, so there’s conjecture from that. Someone managed to get a picture of me getting on the quinjet at Versailles, so they know I’m pregnant. Not one friendly or sympathetic or pitying comment from anyone.” She shoulders sank and she stared at the table. “So, yeah. Asgard seems like a better option for both myself and the baby.” 

“Plain old gossip instead of paparazzi,” summarized Bruce.

“Precisely. Way easier to avoid.” 

“No one will speak ill of you on Asgard,” Thor assured her. She smiled softly, accepting the sentiment, while doubting the possibility of that happening. People would gossip wherever she went, and she accepted that as part of her new reality. It was a shitty reality, but she was coming to terms with it. “We shall leave tomorrow at midday.”

*****

Miranda sighed, half growling at her reflection in the mirror. 

“I’m an idiot for not saying something sooner,” she grumbled before straightening up again. She cleared her throat and started again. “Captain Rogers, I need to tell you something before I leave. I left a piece of information out of my account, and that needs to be rectified. I know the Winter Soldier’s real name. I know I should have come forth with this right away, but I wasn’t sure how to tell you. The Winter Soldier is Sergeant James Barnes. But he didn’t remember that, I helped him do that, so he probably doesn’t remember anymore, since HYDRA has him again. I just, I needed you to know before I left since he’s probably the Winter Soldier again and you’re probably going to come across him at some point and he’s your friend and he’s  _ in _ there and-- ugh!” Miranda’s fingers curled up in her hair as she took a half-step backwards. 

She regretted not telling them before, especially telling Captain Rogers. But she couldn’t think of a way to say “Hey your best friend  _ didn’t _ die 70 years ago and he was turned into a weapon for HYDRA and then was my bodyguard and I  _ may _ have compromised him by helping him remember who he is so HYDRA  _ might _ have killed him or at the least erased his memory  _ again _ so if you see him he’ll try to kill you” and not make it sound as bad as it is. (After almost a whole week of trying to figure out a way to say it nicely, she still had nothing.)

A quick glance at the clock told her that she had run out of time. She was leaving in 20 minutes, and this was  _ definitely _ not the type of thing you could leave in a quick note. That seemed about as bad as not saying anything at all anyway. 

She scooped up her small bag that held the few clothes and things that were ‘hers’. She gave the room a quick scan and a terse nod before leaving. 

It was now or never.

*****

It seemed like the universe decided it would be never because the Captain and Agent Romanoff had been sent away on a mission early that morning. They weren’t around to see them off as a result and Miranda felt horrible.

_ What if they’re fighting James right now? He could hurt them or they him and it would be my fault _ , she worried.  _ I should have said something sooner. Just ripped it off like a band-aid. _

Miranda forced her thoughts to the back of her mind when a group of SHIELD agents appeared with Thor and Loki. She took in the handcuffs and muzzle with silent approval. 

“Sister,” Thor greeted. She groaned internally at the endearment, but he meant well, and she appreciated it. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, putting on a brave face.

“You do not have to go,” Thor said softly.

“I know, but I want to,” Miranda said, trying to convince herself as well as Thor. She felt Loki’s mind prickle with excitement, and quickly rebuffed him. He stared at the ground, looking like he’d been slapped.  _ A schoolboy _ , she remembered.  _ Nothing but a schoolboy _ . “So let’s go.”

Thor was carrying a cylindrical container with a large blue cube enclosed. He instructed Miranda to hold on tightly and presented the other handle of the cylinder to Loki. Thor turned his handle so that it was parallel to the ground, and they were enveloped by a beautiful, bright light. 

Miranda stumbled slightly when they finally touched solid ground, and released her death grip on Thor’s arm.

“Sorry,” she whispered, flexing her fingers.

“It is alright, sister. I did not know you had such strength. I am pleasantly surprised.” She laughed and began to look around. The first thing she noticed was the group of golden armoured warriors surrounding them with their weapons drawn.

“Uh, Thor,” she began, drawing his attention to the warriors. He didn’t seem bothered, and approached one of them, who sheathed his sword and bowed. Thor handed the cylinder to the warrior, who ordered two of the others to follow him, and the rest to secure Loki. Miranda watched in awe as they quickly replaced the handcuffs SHIELD had provided with shackles of their own. 

“Thor, what is the meaning of this?” demanded a man with an eyepatch. Miranda watched in silence as he descended from a throne resting on a raised dias with a growing sense of unease.

“Father, I have brought Loki back to stand punishment for his actions on Midgard.”

_ Oh, fuck _ , Miranda realized,  _ he’s Odin.  _

The Allfather waved his hand and the warriors left, taking Loki with them. Miranda tried to look braver than she felt. But even with as much steel as she had in her, Odin’s gaze was chilling. 

“And what of her?” Odin demanded, pointing at Miranda. “Is she your Jane Foster?”

“Who’s that?” Miranda blurted before she could catch herself. 

“No, Father, she is not. Lady Miranda, Jane Foster is the Midgardian that has possession of my heart.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Father, this is Lady Miranda. She is carrying Loki’s son.” Miranda hoped that this would quell Odin’s anger, but it seemed to do the opposite. 

“Don’t get all puffy at me,” she snapped before Odin could say anything. “It wasn’t my idea, and I didn’t exactly have a choice. So you can stuff it, Allfather or not, ‘cause I am  _ not _ going to deal with people looking at me like I’m some whore when I was forced into what amounts to  _ sexual slavery _ by  _ your _ son! In your infinite wisdom, did you ever think that withholding his heritage would be  _ damaging _ ? No, apparently not because he fucking conquered Earth with a fucking alien army and turned my entire fucking life upside down because he thinks he’s a monster and has to live up to that fucking title because in all your quests for wisdom you forgot that wisdom isn’t some magical fairy dust you can just sprinkle over your head and poof! you’re wise. No, it’s something you fucking  _ earn _ through  _ experience _ and  _ hardship _ \--”

“Insolent girl!”

“Oh, fuck off! Nobody’s ever told you and I’m the only one dumb enough to say it because I am sick and tired of dealing with other people’s shit! If I’m gonna get executed it might as well be while knocking your ego down a few pegs!”

“Sister--” Thor warned.

“No, I’m done,” Miranda sighed, her chest still heaving. Silence fell across the throne room as Miranda and Odin stared each other down. It was a test of wills, but Miranda had spent over a year hardening hers against Loki’s. Odin wasn’t going to gain an inch. 

At the other end of the large hall, the doors opened and Frigga strode in. Her footsteps echoed in the silence.

“I hope I haven’t arrived too late,” she said as she reached them. She looked between Miranda and Odin and sighed. “Ah, I see I have. I’m sure whatever Lady Miranda said was worth saying.” Miranda jerked back and blinked owlishly, not quite believing her ears. “Come, my dear, let me give you a tour of Asgard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you write a story about characters, and other times characters write for you... All in all that was a rant that needed to happen (?). #Friggatotherescue


	4. Tired of Gold

Miranda followed Frigga out of the throne room, slightly confused and rather impressed. As the doors closed behind them, Frigga instructed a servant to take Miranda’s bag to her rooms. After the pair had walked a ways and the hallway opened to a small airy courtyard, Frigga finally turned to Miranda.

“That probably was not the best way to introduce yourself,” she said, the hint of a smirk on her lips. 

“Well, one part brave, two parts fool, that’s me,” Miranda replied dryly. “Thank you though. I have a feeling you saved my life back there.”

“You’re welcome, my dear, but I doubt my husband has any intention of harming you. You are safe here on Asgard, and so is your son.” Miranda smiled weakly.

“That’s my hope. It’s what brought me here. I just--” she sighed heavily-- “I don’t know if I am. Sorry, it’s just… I have a lot on my mind.”

“Indeed you do, but it is not  _ your _ safety that is causing this trouble, is it?”

“Yeah, I’ve always been bad about that. But that is something for my therapist to worry about. So, gimme the tour. The what’s what and who’s who and whatnot.”

Frigga was an excellent guide, and Miranda tried her best to remember where things were. The palace felt like a golden maze, with open courtyards and gardens scattered throughout. After a time, they came across the courtyard used for training. The air was full with high-pitched ringing and the occasional soft  _ thud _ . The smell of leather and metal and sweat was oddly invigorating. Miranda wanted to pick up a sword and spar, but she knew she’d probably drop it on her foot, even if she wasn’t five months pregnant. 

A whirl of dark hair caught her attention in the chaos. She watched the woman in red and silver whirl around in a deadly dance, her partner falling flat on his back. She pointed her sword at his throat before sheathing it and helping him up. Then they began again.

“Who’s that?” Miranda asked. “The woman in red.”

“That is Lady Sif, one of our finest warriors and a dear friend of Thor’s.” 

“Sif,” Miranda repeated mindlessly. 

“Have you met her before?” Miranda shook her head, attempting to clear away the gathering fog.

“No, I just-- stories. I--I’ve heard stories, that’s all.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Uh, I used to, um, study history. Specifically Scandinavian history. They had, um, stories-- legends, really-- about all this. About Asgard and the gods and their adventures. I’m starting to think a lot of them really were fiction,” Miranda explained. “But there seems to have been some truth to them. I mean, this all is real. I don’t know. My perception of reality is… not clear anymore. Separating fact from fiction is getting rather difficult.”

“These last few years have been a shock for everyone, but you seem to have stumbled into the center of it all.”

“More like I was dragged, but yeah. Hopefully I can stay in the eye of this storm for a while longer. Who’s Sif’s partner?” Miranda asked, not so subtly turning the conversation away from herself. 

“That is Fandral, one of the Warriors Three.”

“Another friend of Thor’s?” Frigga nodded. Miranda’s brow furrowed. “So, Thor isn’t married?”

“No, neither of my sons have taken a wife. But they both seem to have had luck on Midgard.”

“Jane Foster,” Miranda said. “That’s who Thor’s in love with, right?”

“She is. He cares about her a great deal.”

“How does she feel about him?”

“I believe she returns his affections,” Frigga said simply. Miranda had the nagging feeling that they weren’t really talking about Jane. Maybe they were, but there was definitely something more. Miranda groaned internally. She had foolishly hoped she could get away from double meanings. 

“I don’t want to seem rude, but I’m rather tired.”

“I would imagine,” Frigga said kindly. “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

*****

Miranda flopped into the large bed. 

“Is there anything here that isn’t gold?” she grumbled, rolling off her back and onto her side. “I just fucking laid down,” she groaned, rolling off the bed and tottering over to the bathroom. 

She flopped back onto the bed a few minutes later and closed her eyes. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but she couldn’t sleep. SHIELD’s doctor had said that insomnia was a common symptom with pregnancy, and Miranda accepted that, but it didn’t change the fact that she was  _ tired _ . 

Her brain wouldn’t shut up. Her thoughts were flitting all over the place, one moment analyzing her position, her options, the next she was worrying about James, the next planning how to raise the baby-- realizing she is entirely unfit for that job, but she doesn’t trust anyone else to raise him either. Then she thought about how tired she was, and if her brain would just _shut up_ for _one_ _second_ , then maybe she could actually get some _rest_ \--

_ Knock, knock _ . 

Miranda groaned and rubbed her eyes as she sat up.

“Enter,” she called. A young woman-- she didn’t look much older than Miranda-- stepped into the room and curtsied politely. 

“I was sent to escort you to the dining hall, your ladyship.”

“It’s dinnertime already?” Miranda muttered. Then, louder, “Alright. Just gimme a second to make sure I look presentable.”

“Of course, your ladyship,” the servant girl replied, curtsying again. 

Miranda grit her teeth and said nothing as she rose and strode over to the mirror. She fixed her hair where it had been mussed when she laid down. 

“Alright, lead the way,” she sighed, turning to the girl. She curtsied again before she turned and opened the door. Miranda really wished she would stop, that everyone would stop. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update, but I've had some pretty bad writer's block with this. I don't have a whole lot planned for what happens on Asgard, so if there's something you think would be fun or interesting or whatever, I'm open to suggestions. Right now everything is a hell of a lot more complicated than I thought it would be, and I'm not quite sure if it makes sense or not. Oh, well. Thanks for reading!


	5. To Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, but I'm having really bad writer's block. I literally have everything planned out but the stuff on Asgard.   
> Anyway, in this chapter we're gonna check in on some of the Avengers in an attempt to explain how the MCU works now that everything is all screwy in the wake of Loki's prolonged victory.

Earth, Earlier that day, Approx. 0400 local time, Somewhere over the Atlantic

 

The jet was quiet, the engines a dull hum outside. The small team on board was doing a final checkover on their gear: tightening straps, securing their weapons in their holsters, and checking that the comms worked.

Natasha stood next to Steve near the front of the plane.

“So now that Loki’s gone, are you gonna ask Carol out?”

“Still trying to set me up?”

“Of course,” she smirked. “You need something to do in your free time. Dating is a productive distraction. What are your plans Saturday?”

“Well, all the guys in my barbershop quartet are dead, so.”

“Then why don’t you ask her? Too scared?” Natasha called after him as he strode to the back of the plane.

“Too busy!” Steve shouted over the wind as he stepped out of the plane. 

“Was he wearing a chute?” An agent shouted over the wind. Next to him, Rumlow smirked and shook his head.

“No.”

******

“Nat, what are you doing?” Steve asked. Natasha kept typing away, the screen in front of her a flurry of files. 

“Fury gave me a mission, I’m following orders.”

“Our mission is to rescue hostages.”

“No, that’s  _ your _ mission. Mine is to make sure that this information doesn’t fall into the wrong hands,” she stated, removing the thumb drive from the computer. “Take it up with Fury if you want, but I’m just doing my job, Steve. Unless you want HYDRA to get ahold of this,” she finished, waving the drive in the air before tucking it into a pouch on her belt. 

********************************************************************************************************

Somewhere in the American Midwest, 1600 local time

 

“So are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Laura asked as she sat down next to her husband on the couch. 

“I’m fine, Laura.”

“Right. You’ve been stuck in your head since you got home,” she said, poking his temple. “Is it classified?”

“No, not really,” Clint replied after a moment.

“Did you bring home another stray KGB agent?” Laura smirked.

“No,” Clint grinned. “But close. She was manipulated by Loki.” Laura hummed in understanding. “No one really knows where her head is at.”

“So keep an eye on her, like with Nat.”

“I would if I could, but she left with Thor for Asgard.”

“Sounds like you don’t think she should of.”

“No, but staying wasn’t a good option either. I guess it’s the lesser of two evils. I’m just worried about her. She’s a kid, Laura. She’s younger than Nat was.” Laura smiled softly. 

“She’s in good hands, Clint. You trust Thor, don’t you? He’s not going to let anything happen to her.”

“I’m sure he won’t. Thor thinks of her like a sister.”

“But?”

“But she has a sharp tongue.”

“So she puts her foot in her mouth.”

“Not that I’ve seen, but she’s amazed Loki didn’t kill her, so,” he shrugged. “I really need to stop bringing work home with me,” he sighed. “Maybe I should work on the house instead. The porch needs to be redone.” Laura rolled her eyes. 

“Plan away,” she teased. “You’ll always find something that needs fixing.”

********************************************************************************************************

Asgard, When We Left Off

 

Miranda was grateful when the servant girl lead her to a private dining room instead of the massive dining hall. She wanted to avoid stares and murmurs for as long as she could, but she knew she didn’t have much more time-- if she had any left at all.

Frigga and Thor were already seated at the table. Frigga was at the foot of the table, and Thor sat to the right of the empty head. He was in the middle of a thrilling retelling of a battle by the sounds of it. Frigga gently patted the table to her right, and Miranda took it as a request for her to sit there. Thor paused his tale and smiled warmly as Miranda sat down.

“Thor was recounting one of the battles that he won on Midgard. His fellows are very brave,” Frigga said. 

“Very skilled, too, I expect,” Miranda said politely. 

“Aye, sister, they are. I did not know that Midgardians were such skilled warriors before I spent time among them.”

“It’s very easy to underestimate humanity. We do it all the time ourselves.”

“How so?” asked Frigga.

“Well, humans, we are capable of great good, -- like the people Thor worked with-- but we are also capable of great evil-- like the people Loki worked with. Even though we know this, we still forget that there is a spectrum, that we can do both.”

“It’s not a hard thing to forget,” Frigga said. “It happens here as well.” Miranda nodded, redirecting her gaze to stare at the table in front of her. “You seem distracted, my dear.”

“Just tired. It’s been a long day. I’m sorry, I’m not making a very good conversation partner.”

“It’s quite alright. We’ve stalled just long enough,” Frigga told her as the doors opened to reveal a few servants carrying trays of food. “Let us dine,” she said as they set the food down on the table. “To family.” She raised her glass, and the other two copied the motion, echoing her:

“To family.”


	6. In the Mood for a Moonlight Serenade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: the story calendar is April 20, 2014 as of this chapter. For those of you keeping track at home, the baby's due date is May 17, 2014, so we have about a month of story time left before that happens.

The sunlight filtered through the trees in the garden, casting playful shadows on the book on the table in front of Miranda. She squeezed her eyes closed, pinching her brow a moment before rubbing her eyes. She turned her attention back to the book, the runes still swimming a bit. Huffing, she closed the book and sat back in her seat. 

She let her thoughts drift as her eyes wandered over the garden. Miranda had found this spot several weeks prior, and as more flowers bloomed, she loved it more and more. It was private, but not secluded. It gave her somewhere to go to be alone, but she was able to be found easily enough if someone needed her. It was perfect. 

“Mind if I join you?” Miranda directed her gaze to the speaker.

“Not at all, Lady Sif,” she replied. Sif sat in the other chair by the table. “Shouldn’t you be training? Or did the boys get tired of getting their asses handed to them?” Sif laughed.

“No, we finished early. The Allfather wanted to speak with Thor.”

“Mmm,” Miranda hummed, nodding. “I hope it’s nothing too serious.”

“It is difficult to say. The Nine Realms are still in upheaval.”

“But the Bifrost is almost repaired, at least. When it is, that’ll make things easier, won’t it?”

“Indeed, it will.”  The pair were silent for a moment. 

“You didn’t come find me to talk about that, though. Is something bothering you?”

“No, I just wanted some good company.” They both smiled.

“I’m flattered. I enjoy your company, too. And conversation is a good break from trying to read this old thing,” Miranda said, poking the book. “My eyes are starting to hurt.”

“Another book from the Allmother?”

“Yeah. It’s helpful, I guess. I’m being to understand what I’m capable of. And what my son might be capable of,” she added softly. 

“You are worried about his future.” Miranda could tell it wasn’t a question. 

“Yeah, I am. I know I’m not the only one. Thor and Frigga are worried too, they’re just better at hiding it. It’d be foolish not to be worried. Everyone knows what Loki is capable of, and that’s scary enough, but throw me into the mix-- Well, no one knows what I can do.” Miranda paused. “Sorry, I don’t mean to darken your afternoon.”

“It is fine. I understand the need to confess your worries to someone.”

“Thank you, Lady Sif,” Miranda smiled. They let an easy silence fall between them, each relaxing into their chairs. Miranda’s breathing was only thrown off a few times by the baby’s kicks. “He sure moves a lot,” she grumbled after he did what felt like somersaults-- for the third time. 

“It means he is healthy,” Frigga told her, rounding the curve in the garden path. 

“Which is great, but I could do without the nausea,” Miranda joked. She rose to her feet as Frigga neared the table. “You’re both worrying really loud. I can still walk, how do you think I got out here?” The two Asgardians looked embarrassed for a brief second. Miranda chuckled. “It’s alright. Just remember I’m made of glass as much as either of you are.”

“That you are, my dear,” Frigga responded. “Have you given any thought to what you would like to do for your birthday?”

“My wha-- oh, right! Gosh, that’s coming up isn’t it?”

“Three days hence.”

“Wow. No, I-- I haven’t. Guess I was too distracted by baby names,” Miranda laughed. “I don’t need anything big though. Something small, if anything. Last time I was in a big crowd it didn’t end well,” she said, remembering how she had felt at the Palais Garnier the previous July. She didn’t want a repeat of that. 

Frigga nodded and the trio began walking along the garden paths, the book temporarily forgotten on the table. Miranda allowed herself to get lost in the conversation, pushing her worries aside. They were planning her 22nd birthday party-- she should be celebrating. But her thoughts kept trying to pull her back to her last birthday. Miranda was able to ignore them until after dinner. Then it was a relentless torrent.

 

She had spent the day in James’ company, which in and of itself wasn’t anything unusual. He was her bodyguard, after all. It was drizzling off and on all day, so they spent it inside, sitting in front of the fireplace in Miranda’s rooms. Loki had been off somewhere else in the world, but he had sent a stack of literature and a bottle of lemon akvavit to her as a gift. 

Miranda read most of the book of poetry aloud to James, but hadn’t touched the akvavit all day. By evening, however, her curiosity had won out. She lept up from her spot on the rug, startling James. 

“Sorry,” she muttered, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Do you want a drink?” she asked, lifting the bottle out of the box. “I don’t know if this is any good but--” she shrugged-- “might as well, right?”

“I shouldn’t. I have a mission.”

“Your mission is my safety, right?” She didn’t look to notice his nod. “And in the almost two months you’ve been here, has my safety been threatened? No.”

“That’s not true,” James retorted. 

“Me tripping and nearly falling down the stairs doesn’t count.”

“Yes it does. You could have gotten hurt.”

“But I didn’t,” she countered, offering him a glass of the akvavit. “So my safety is managed. Therefore, you don’t have a mission to worry about. Besides, one drink won’t hurt anything. And if it’s bad I want to be able to laugh at your reaction while you laugh at mine.” He grudgingly took the glass from her, and she smiled victoriously.

“Your neck,” he muttered. 

“Mhm,” she hummed. “Shall we toast?” she asked, raising her glass. He returned the gesture. “To surviving another year.” They clinked the glasses together, a familiar sound to them both, before taking a sip of the akvavit. Miranda laughed as James choked.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Well I like it,” she teased, taking his glass back. “I guess I’ll just have to drink alone,” she sighed dramatically. “Thanks for trying, soldier,” she teased. For a moment James thought he was in a bar, flirting with some girl-- but then it was gone. 

“I need to be sober anyway, Andy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving her hand and sitting down in one of the chairs. She looked thoughtful for a moment, then hopped up and turned on the radio, skipping around until she found an classic jazz station. She glanced at him expectantly.

“Are you expecting me to remember after just a few chords?”

“Well, no, but a girl can dream,” she admitted. She sat back down in the chair and drank from her glass. 

They struck up easy conversation, Miranda drinking the akvavit leisurely. After awhile, the conversation drifted, starting and stopping like the ebb of the tide. During a lull in conversation, the song on the radio changed, and Miranda looked over at James, her cheeks slightly flushed. 

“Hey, soldier, wanna dance?” she asked, getting to her feet. She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. 

“I thought I was supposed to ask a gal to dance.”

“Been waitin’ all night, James. Decided to take the initiative, if you don’t mind, Sarge.”

“I don’t,” he replied as their hands fell into position. It took a few bars, but they fell into step. James was barely paying attention, letting his muscle memory take over. Miranda stumbled a few times, but she laughed it off. 

“Sorry,” she giggled after she stepped on his foot. 

“It’s alright, doll,” he replied. He remembered doing this before-- only his feet got stepped on more, and he was fairly sure he wasn’t dancing with a girl. “At least you don’t have two left feet,” he teased. 

“I’m usually more coordinated.”

“You’re drunk, doll.”

“I only had two.”

“Yeah, and that stuff is 40 percent alcohol. You’re small, and that stuff is strong.”

“You sayin’ I can hold my liquor, Sarge?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying you’re drunk.” She huffed, and he laughed. There was something adorable and familiar about it.

The song changed again, this time something slow. Miranda leaned her head on his chest as they danced. As the song came to an end, Miranda looked up at James to find that he was looking down at her. Then she did something stupid and rash, with no thought of the consequences-- she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

It was chaste, and lasted only a moment. After, Miranda leaned her head on his chest again as they swayed to the next song. Neither of them ever mentioned it.

 

Miranda rested her fingertips on her lips like the ghost of the kiss was still there. She wished they had talked about it, that she had said more than “Jeg elsker deg”, that she had been able to translate for him. She knew that they couldn’t of-- someone might have overheard-- but she hoped that maybe, one day, they could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs that are important are:  
> In the Mood by Glenn Miller (1940): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_CI-0E_jses  
> Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller (1939): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n92ATE3IgIs 
> 
> Akvavit is a Scandinavian liquor similar to vodka. 
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated!


	7. What's In a Name?

Later that night, Thor came by her rooms. He seemed… worried about something. It wasn’t the first time Miranda noticed how much he wore his heart on his sleeve. 

“I hope I am not keeping you awake,” he said.

“No, it’s alright. Clearly you have something you need to talk about.”

“Aye. I spoke with my father this afternoon. About your son.”

“Oh?” Miranda’s mouth grew dry. “In what way?”

“He wanted to know if I planned on claiming him as my own, and if he had a name yet.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I did not know. What are your thoughts?”

“I have many. Most of them I don’t think are appropriate.” The pair laughed lightly, the tension abating for a moment. “I was thinking Benjamin James for his name though.”

“That is a strong name. Does it have meaning?”

“Some. I’ve always liked the name Benjamin, and, uh, James was a friend,” she told him, her voice just above a whisper at the end. Thor nodded, approving of her choice. Miranda paused, frowning. “Wait, what do you mean ‘claim him as your own’?”

“It would make him my son in everyone’s eyes.”

“And make him a prince of Asgard?”

“Aye.” Miranda shifted, clenching her jaw. It was better than being the son of a traitor, but by how much? “I won’t if you do not wish it.”

“Do you want to?”

“I will protect him with my life regardless. You both are family.”

“Is… is it safer for him, for us, if you do?”

“I believe so.” Miranda nodded.

“Let me think about it. I’ll tell you in the morning.” Thor nodded, then bid her goodnight and left. Miranda laid down on her side after changing into her nightclothes-- pyjamas were less silky and more comfortable, in her opinion. (And she  _ really  _  missed pants. She had a pair of sweats from SHIELD, but the waistband wasn’t big enough anymore.) She absently rubbed her belly as she let her thoughts flit across her mind, not trying to hold any particular train of thought. 

Miranda understood the necessity of having her son be claimed by someone as his guardian. There were days where she wondered if  _ she _ would claim him. She would though, probably. But having Thor as another guardian couldn’t hurt. And the kid would need someone to act as his father. So that was settled.

*****

The celebration held in Miranda’s honor was, according to Frigga, small compared to the celebration that would be held after the baby was born. Miranda really hoped she was joking. There were a lot of partying  Asgardians, meaning there were a lot of muscly drunks. At least they were still respectful (though Miranda had no illusions that it was because she was Thor’s adopted sister). All in all it was a lovely affair. 

But she was glad when it was over. The noise and crowd was a little much after living in near isolation for so long, and Miranda hadn’t been that much of a party person before anyway. 

And it certainly didn’t help that the memory of her previous birthday kept running through her brain. The more she thought about it, the more embarrassed she felt. She had drunk kissed her childhood hero and crush. If it were possible to die of shame, Miranda knew she would be dead three times over. But she also felt sad. She had no idea what had happened to James, and she still felt guilty about not telling Captain Rogers-- no, he prefered Steve-- that he was alive. So the memory was bittersweet, just like everything else. 

And good lord, what was she thinking? Naming her son after him? 

_ Well, James is a common name, _ her brain supplied.  _ No one will know that he’s named after  _ him, _ now will they? _

No, she supposed they wouldn’t. Not if she didn’t say anything. 

So it was settled: his name would be Benjamin James Douglas.

*****

If Miranda was honest with herself, she should have seen it coming. Sure, she had apologized and they had moved on, tolerating each other, growing to respect each other, but that didn’t mean they saw eye-to-eye on, well, anything. 

“He is my son, he’s taking my name,” she insisted. “Loki will never meet him, so why should he have to take his name?”

“It is tradition,” Odin ground out.

“Nothing about any of this is traditional to either of us. His surname will be Douglas.”

“If he is to remain on Asgard, it should be Lokison.”

“Who ever said he would remain on Asgard?” The idea hung in the air for a moment before Miranda continued. “Besides, nothing good ever happened in the legends to a son of Loki. I won’t risk the same happening to my son.”

“And what makes you think that we are incapable of protecting him?”

“I don’t. But there is power in names, and maybe I’m being overly superstitious, but I won’t risk his safety for  _ tradition _ . I’ll admit it, I’m out of my depth. But I will  _ not _ risk his safety to comfort you. His name will be Benjamin James Douglas,” she said with finality. 

“Perhaps, sister, we would understand your concern better if we knew the cause of it,” Thor said calmly, breaking the silence. Miranda sighed and stared at the table.

“In the Nordic legends, the stories about Asgard and the other realms, Loki had many children. The most important and famous are Fenrir, Jorgmund, Hel, Sleipnir, Nari, and Vali. Fenrir and Jorgmund are key players in Ragnarok, and Hel is, well, I imagine you know who she is. Sleipnir is a horse, so I suppose he got off easy in comparison. Nari and Vali had it the worst.” She paused, debating if she should tell them the whole legend. As angry as she was with Loki, she didn’t want to give them any ideas. But it might not hurt… “In the myths, Loki is responsible for the death of Baldur, which is a sign of Ragnarok. He flees, going far away from Asgard to escape retribution, but eventually he is found by yourselves and Skadi. You take him to a cave to imprison him, and bring his sons, Nari and Vali, there. One of them is turned into a wolf and slays the other. That son’s entrails are turned into iron shackles that chain Loki to the stone of the cave. Skadi places a poisonous snake above Loki’s head, so that it’s poison can drip on him. Sigyn, Loki’s wife and the mother of Nari and Vali, stays by his side, collecting the poison in a bowl so that it doesn’t drip on him. They say there until Ragnarok, when Loki brings free to aid in the destruction of the universe.” Silence fell heavy after she finished. “If I can help it, my son isn’t going to live or die as a son of Loki.”

“Very well, he will not be recognized as a son of Loki,” Odin acquiesced. 

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to the legend: http://norse-mythology.org/tales/loki-bound/
> 
> So, yeah. The kid's name is Benjamin James Douglas. Little baby Ben will be entering the world soon (like in a chapter or two). I'm really excited to write this little nerd. He's such a little shit, it's beautiful. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I know it's been a dry couple of chapters. Please bear with me!


	8. Bouncing Baby Boy

Childbirth was hilariously painless, Miranda thought, compared to the pain she had experienced the previous July after going to the opera. Sure, she winced from the stronger contractions, and screamed enough she thought she may have damaged her vocal chords, but it was nothing compared to the freezing fire of-- whatever the hell it was. 

And it stopped almost instantly once the baby was born. 

Drenched in sweat, Miranda nearly cried with joy when she heard her son scream. She sank into the chair behind her-- the midwives said it was easier for the mother to give birth standing-- and took a deep breath. She accepted a cup of water and drained it, then turned to the young trainee.

“Is-- is he healthy?” she croaked. 

“Aye, Lady Miranda. The Allmother says that you and your son are both very strong.”

“Can I see him?” The girl frowned, and Miranda looked over to where her son was being gently washed. “I want to hold my son.”

“Lady Miranda, you know you must wait nine days to name him, aye?”

“He already has a name, but yes, I know the tradition, just please, I want to meet my son.” The girl nodded and quickly went to Frigga and Freyja. After a moment, Frigga approached Miranda with a small bundle in her arms. 

“Hlif says you wish to meet your son,” Frigga said gently, placing the baby in his mother’s arms. Miranda nodded, blinking back tears as she wrapped her arms around him. She gently pushed the blanket back from his face.

“Hey, little guy,” she whispered. “I’m your mom.” The baby opened his eyes for a moment, and blinked before closing them again and squirming. Miranda noticed that they were the same stormy blue as her own. “Benjamin,” she smiled. “My baby Ben.” 

*****

Miranda rocked back and forth, bouncing and gently shushing Ben. It was the middle of the night and she was exhausted, but he wouldn’t fall back asleep. 

“Are you being difficult so I’ll sing a lullaby?” she questioned the tiny child in her arms. He didn’t respond; just squirmed. Miranda sighed and shifted him in her arms so that she could pace while she sang. “Unfortunately for you, your grandparents weren’t big on lullabies from what I remember. So I hope you turn out to be a big Disney nerd like your mom.” She hummed a few bars to remind herself of the tune, then began to sing softly. 

“ _ Come stop your crying, it’ll be alright. _

_ Just take my hand, and hold it tight. _

_ I will protect you from all around you, _

_ I will be here, don’t you cry. _

_ For one so small, you seem so strong. _

_ My arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm. _

_ This bond between us, can’t be broken, _

_ I will be here, don’t you cry. _

_ ‘Cause you’ll be in my heart. _

_ Yes, you’ll be in my heart, _

_ From this day on, _

_ Now and forevermore. _

_ You’ll be in my heart, _

_ No matter what they say. _

_ You’ll be in my heart, always….” _

She trailed off as she laid him back down in his cradle. She sighed in relief when his eyes stayed closed. She made her way to her own bed quickly, flopping down to burrow into the pillows and blankets. Maybe she’d get a few hours of decent sleep.

*****

When Miranda opened her eyes again, light was streaming through the window, catching on the dust motes. Rolling onto her back, she stretched, hoping to have a minute to herself before Ben woke up. And she did. And another. And another. 

Her face crinkled with worry as she sat up. Padding over to the door that connected her room to the nursery, she rubbed the sand out of her eyes. Miranda paused at the door, listening to the quiet murmurings on the other side. When she opened it, she wasn’t surprised to see the nursemaid gently rocking her son. Disappointed, maybe, a little angry, maybe; but not surprised. 

Miranda took in the scene for a moment before the nursemaid turned towards the door and saw her. The other woman bowed as best as she could with Ben in her arms.

“Good morning, Lady Miranda. I apologize if I woke you.”

“No, no, you didn’t wake me, Laila.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“After Ben finally went back to sleep, yeah.”

“You should have woken me, Lady Miranda. It is my job to take care of your son.” 

_ No, it’s  _ my  _ job to take care of him, _ Miranda thought. “I didn’t mind,” she said instead. Laila nodded, still rocking Ben back and forth. “I’ll, uh, go get dressed then,” she said awkwardly. She left without another word. 

*****

The throne room was crowded and buzzing with excitement. Miranda shifted Ben in her arms, shushing him softly. He blinked and quieted as she bounced him gently. She smiled, relaxing a bit. 

“Today is a most exciting day, sister.”

“It is, Thor,” she smiled. “I think the guests might be more excited than I am,” she continued, looking around the room. 

“There has not been a royal child since my brother. It has been centuries since a royal Naming has occurred.” Miranda hummed in understanding. She wondered how long her son’s life would be. 

“Part of me wishes he was here,” she admitted. “I know I should hate him, but I can’t.” Thor rested a hand on her shoulder.

“I understand, sister. I feel the same.” Miranda hugged him as best she could without squishing Ben. He returned the gesture. They parted as Odin stepped forward to call the room to order. 

The room fell silent quickly. Ben stirred at the sudden lack of noise, but didn’t cry. Thor stepped up to the dais, Miranda just a few paces behind. 

“Today we recognise my nephew as part of the community,” Thor addressed the crowd. Miranda placed Ben in his arms, and he sat down in the chair placed there specifically for this, balancing Ben on his knee. “In my brother’s stead, I welcome his son to Asgard. This child, Benjamin James Douglas, Son of Miranda, now has all the rights that come to him as a prince of Asgard.” The crowd erupted in applause. Thor handed Ben-- now truly Ben-- back to Miranda. 

“Thank you,” Miranda said over the noise. “Truly, brother, thank you.”

“The honor is all mine, sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song ("Lullaby"): "You'll Be In My Heart" by Phil Collins from Disney's "Tarzan"
> 
> So the naming ceremony is an actual Viking ritual. I'm not sure if it went down the way I described, but it's not like anyone recorded it, so call it artistic license. The basics of the naming ritual are that when a baby is born, the parents wait nine days to name/recognise the child. This is because a way of limiting population was to expose a newborn to the elements. After the child had been recognised, they can no longer be exposed without it being considered murder, as they now have all the rights that come to them from their social status.   
> Frigga and Freyja are the deities that are said to be present at birth to help with the process, which is why I used them there. Hlif is a random character that I created, as is the nursemaid, Laila.   
> Thanks for reading!


	9. A Visitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that conversation with Loki I promised? Yeah, that's happening.   
> Also, Ben's about two months old now. (It's July 2014, roughly.)

Having a nursemaid had its benefits. Miranda got sleep at night, and didn’t have to rearrange her entire life to account for Ben. That was nice, most days, because it allowed her to continue trying to figure out what she could do, and begin to learn new skills as a warrior. While it wasn’t a whole lot yet, Miranda wanted to learn what she could. She wasn’t sure how long Asgard would be safe, and she wanted to be able to defend herself and her son. 

But having a nursemaid also had its drawbacks. Miranda felt like she was missing out on her son’s life, and that she wasn’t being a proper mother. It pained her to leave Ben with Laila, but she also knew she had to. She wouldn’t be able to learn what she needed to otherwise. 

She still made sure that she knew what she needed to to take care of Ben. She was persistent, learning everything she possibly could. She knew she wouldn’t have a nursemaid forever, and she wanted to be prepared when that day came. 

So the days that she was on her own because Laila had off where precious and stressful. Miranda loved every minute of it though. Ben was beginning to smile, most of the time it was just to himself, but every time he did Miranda wished she had a camera. Heimdall said that her family was fine, they were all safe and well, (Miranda had no doubt that was thanks to her uncle’s connections. Working for a secret agency had to have its perks) so she wished she could document these little moments for them. Her mother would be so excited. Her dad, too, probably. Miranda missed them now more than ever. She hadn’t spoken to them much since the Christmas before everything had gone to hell. That was-- holy crap-- over  _ two years ago _ . Did they even know she was alive? What did they think had happened to their daughter?

Miranda didn’t have answers, and wasn’t even all that sure what questions she had. But she knew one thing she could do.

Which is what lead to her holding Ben in her arms in Asgard’s prison. Thor stood nearby, close enough to intervene, should the need arise, but far enough away that she could have a private conversation with Loki.

His back was to her, and he was standing as tall and proud as he had been the last time she had seen him, months ago. 

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” he said harshly.

“Hello would be a good start.” Loki turned around then, realising that his visitor was not who he was expecting. “I should’ve come sooner, but… I was scared. I’m not really sure of what,” she shrugged. She meet his gaze. 

“I thought Odin wouldn’t allow you to come.”

“No, the only person not allowed to visit you is Frigga. I considered never visiting, but that would be too cruel.” She stood as close to the energy field as she could. “It would be wrong of me to never let you meet our son.” She shifted so that Loki could see Ben if he came closer to her. When she looked back up, Loki was standing right in front of her, a tender look in his eyes. 

“What do you call him?”

“Ben. His full name is Benjamin James Douglas.” Ben squirmed, then settled, staring at his father. 

“Why not Lokison?”

“Just because I didn’t tell you the Norse myths doesn’t mean you don’t know them. I know you do, so you know why.”

“I never thought you would be superstitious.”

“Things change. I’d rather be safe than sorry.” She paused. “I’ve been wondering though, why did you keep a harem? You never replaced the girls that died or left, and then you let the others go, keeping only me. I don’t understand why you would have a harem when you were interested in companionship.” 

“It was simpler than courting.”

“Liar.” He grinned. “What about the brands? I’m scarred for life.”

“I couldn’t have my associates thinking that you were free game.” Miranda swallowed, her stomach churning at the implications. 

“What happened to your ‘associates’ from New York?”

“Thanos recalled them after I gained control of the planet.” 

“I’m getting more answers than I thought I would.”

“And I a visit I never thought I would.” The silence stretched between them, both parents watching their son. Ben clasped and unclasped his hands a few times, his gaze going back and forth between his parents. 

“I should hate you,” Miranda said flatly.

“But you do not.” She shook her head. “Then how do you feel, Lady Miranda?” he asked, his voice suddenly challenging, as he stepped away from her. “Do you feel pity, then? Guilt?”

“No. I’m not sure what I feel. I know I don’t hate you, but I know I don’t love you either.”

“Then why are you here? Why, after all these months do you grace me with you presence?” Miranda recoiled at the venom in his voice.

“Because I thought you would like to meet your son!”

“And yet you did not let me name him!” Loki shouted.

“I was hurt and angry! I can’t take it back now. He needed to be named, and he needs a guardian that can be there for him. I trust Thor to protect and care for him if I can’t. I know you would if you could, but you are here, and will be for his whole life!”

“So you have come to remind me of what I have lost?”

“Sister,” Thor said softly. Miranda turned to see him standing at the base of the steps leading to Loki’s cell. “We should leave.” Miranda nodded, throwing one last glance over her shoulder at Loki. She doubted that she would ever see him again.

And he would never see  _ her _ son. 


	10. The Dark World, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usually my chapters are about a thousand words, but this one is nearly two and I didn't even get through all of Dark World. There wasn't a good place to break it, so you get a long chapter.  
> Basically, the main difference is that this is in November 2014 rather than 2013, but other than that, things go down more or less the same as the movie.

Miranda sat on a blanket in the shade playing with Ben. Laila sat nearby, watching her own son toddle around the garden. It was peaceful, and perhaps the last time this year that they would be able to take the children out before everything was covered in snow. Miranda looked up when she heard someone approaching. 

“Where are you off to this time?” she asked Thor, frowning at his armour. 

“Vanaheim,” he replied. “You need not worry so, sister.”

“Somebody has to worry about you, brother,” she said, picking up Ben and standing. “After all, you worry about everyone else.” She stood close to him, and Ben reached out to try and grab at the plates on his chest. Miranda gently pulled his hand away. She sighed, “Go. I know you’ll come back. Make the realms safe again.” 

“I shall,” Thor promised, giving her a quick hug before leaving. Ben reached out after him and started to cry.

“Shh, shhh, shhh, baby. He’ll be back soon,” she soothed, bouncing slightly. Ben calmed and balled up some of her dress in his fist, resting his head on his mother’s shoulder. Miranda stared at the spot she had last seen Thor for a moment longer before sitting back down on the blanket to play with her son. 

*****

“And they surrendered! None dared to challenge the mighty Thor!” Volstagg bellowed, ending another recountment of the battle, the same as the nights previous. Miranda smiled, as caught up in the excitement as everyone around her. The laughter and merriment in the hall was loud and boisterous; most of the city was out celebrating the victory in Vanaheim that finally brought peace back to the Nine Realms. 

Ben stirred in her arms, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. Miranda rose, careful not to jostle him too much.

“Leaving so soon?” Fandral called across the table. 

“Unlike your ladies there, I plan on getting a good night’s rest with my boy,” she sassed back. The table erupted into another bout of drunken laughter,(even though it wasn't that funny) but Miranda noticed Thor only joined in halfheartedly.

_ Are you alright, brother? _ she asked as soon as he let her in his mind. 

_ Aye, sister. I have merely gotten lost in my thoughts. _

_ Perhaps you should visit her then, _ she suggested before navigating her way out of the hall. Shortly after, Thor made his way to leave as well. He paused when he saw Sif by the edge of the balcony.

“There was a time when you would celebrate for weeks,” she said.

“I remember you celebrated the Battle of Haragun so much you nearly started the second.”

“Well the first was so much fun.” They both smile, but Thor’s face quickly falls.  “Take a drink with me. Surely the Allfather could have no further task for you tonight.”

“No, this is one I serve myself.”

“It does not go unnoticed that you disappear each night. There are Nine Realms; the future king of Asgard must focus on more than one.” Thor nods, knowing full well that she’s right.

“I thank you for your sword, and for your council, good lady Sif.” After that, he left quickly, hoping to reach Heimdall before it got too late in the evening.

*****

“Odin continues to send me new friends. How thoughtful,” Loki mused as the prisoners from Vanaheim were marched past towards their cells.

“The books I sent, do they not interest you?” Frigga asked conversationally. 

“Is that how I am to while away eternity? Reading?”

“I’ve done everything in my power to make you comfortable.”

“Does Odin share your concern? Does Thor? Does Miranda? It must be so inconvenient, them asking after me day and night.”

“You know full well it was your actions that brought you here.” Loki suddenly understood why Miranda’s words always sounded familiar, why they never truly seemed like her own, even though they were.

“My actions,” Loki parroted. “I was merely giving truth to the lie I’d been fed my entire life: that I was born to be a king.”

“A king? A true king admits his faults. What of the lives you took on Earth?”

“A mere handful compared to the lives Odin has taken himself.”

“Your father--”

“HE’S NOT MY FATHER!” Loki interrupted.

“Then am I not your mother?” Frigga asked softly. Loki hesitated, weighing his options.

“You’re not,” he finally answered.

“Always so perceptive about everyone but yourself,” Frigga said sadly. There were tears in her eyes as Loki swept his hand through the illusion, dissipating it. 

*****

“How is he?” Miranda asked as Frigga turned away from the flames. 

“He’s still angry,” she told her, wiping away a tear. 

“I expected as much,” Miranda said sadly, her eyes downcast for a moment. 

“As did I.” Miranda sat on the edge of shallow fountain, trailing her fingers through the water. “He cares about you.”

“I know. I care about him, too,” she admitted. They had come to this stalemate months ago, but every once in awhile something like this would fan the flames again. One day, Miranda hoped it would be soon, they would come to a better understanding of each other in regards to Miranda’s feelings for Loki. “I just… I wish we could do more to help him. I know it’s his fault, at least partially, but if Thanos hadn’t…” She sighed, withdrawing her fingers from the water and looking up at Frigga. “I don’t know what happened to him, not fully, but I know he wasn’t always like this. I can tell from the way you and Thor talk about him.”

“No, he wasn’t always like this,” Frigga confirmed, sitting down next to her. “But he always felt out of place as a child. We thought that withholding the truth would help him somehow.”

“It didn’t,” Miranda said firmly. “But I’m not sure telling him would have helped either.” She sighed again. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.” Frigga raised an eyebrow. “Ben will grow up knowing who and what he is. I don’t want to lie to him, even by omission.”

“Are you sure that is wise?”

“No, but I can’t risk him being like his father. I can’t,” she whispered, shaking her head. Frigga nodded, resting a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. 

“I wish I had had your courage all those years ago. Perhaps we could have avoided all this pain.” Miranda doubted that, but kept it to herself. Frigga felt guilty enough as it was; she didn’t need to add anything to that.

*****

A few minutes later, the two women were walking through when they found Thor. Miranda didn’t recognize the brunette next to him, but had a theory.

“My father doesn’t know everything,” Thor told her.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Frigga said. 

“He’ll think I’m a bad influence,” Miranda added. 

“Jane Foster, please meet Frigga, Queen of Asgard, my mother,” Thor introduced. Jane looked surprised, and then flustered as she slipped her hands out of Thor’s and stepped back a few paces.

“Hi,” she said shakily. Miranda stifled a laugh. “And you are?” she asked, turning to Miranda.

“I’m Miranda Douglas, Dr. Foster. It’s an honor to meet you,” Miranda answered easily, extending her hand. “Thor’s told me a lot about you,” she continued while they shook hands. Jane looked back at Thor, somewhere between flattered and appalled. “Don’t worry, Dr. Foster. My brother admires you, it was all good things,” she laughed.

“Wait, brother? You’re his sister? What?” she asked, looking back and forth between the three others. 

“Lady Miranda is the mother of my nephew, Jane,” Thor explained. Jane nodded, and Miranda could see the cogs turning in her head. 

“My son has taken it upon himself to protect them both,” Frigga added, pride and concern coloring the edges of her words. 

Their conversation was interrupted by the distant hum of horns.

“The prisons,” Frigga said as they all turned in the direction of the noise.

“Loki,” Thor said, almost a growl. Miranda had the same thought, but was more concerned than angry. 

“Go,” Frigga said to Thor. “I will look after her.” Thor nodded and ran up the nearby steps, shedding his cloak before flying off with Mjolnir. 

“Ben,” Miranda gasped. Sure, she trusted Laila with her son, but this was a whole new situation. She turned to Frigga. “Will you be alright?”

“Of course. Go protect your son, I will stay with Jane.” Miranda nodded, and quickly took off in the direction of her chambers. When she got there, she immediately turned and locked the door. 

“Laila? Are you here?” she called out, searching for something to barricade the door. She had peeked into enough minds to know that this wasn’t a simple prison break. 

“Aye, my lady,” Laila answered, stepping out of the nursery. “I just put the young prince down to sleep. Why, may I ask, are you so frightened?”

“There was a prison break,” Miranda explained, moving to close the windows. She paused, watching a golden force field rise. “And I’m pretty sure Asgard is under attack,” she added, continuing on in her task. She heard an explosion, and resisted the urge to look outside to see it.

“I agree, my lady,” Laila said. Miranda noticed that she was better at keeping the fear out of her voice. But then again, Laila probably had more experience with impending, unpredictable, and unknown threats. 

Another explosion could be heard a few moments later, and a quick glance outside showed that the golden shield was falling. Now there was gunfire-- well, laserfire, really, since it sounded like something from Star Wars-- and soon after a loud noise that sounded like breaking stone. Both women now held a sword, and watched the door. Miranda reached out, finding Thor and Frigga easily, keeping her awareness of them open. 

Everything was calm for a few minutes, aside from the general battle. Miranda focused harder on Frigga when she felt a change, and nearly collapsed a moment later when she could no longer feel Frigga, her mind sifting to fill the space by focusing on Thor. There was too much grief and fury for Miranda to stay attached. Laila caught her as her knees buckled. 

“Are you alright, my lady?”

“I’m fine,” Miranda gasped. “I have to get to Frigga.” She regained her footing, and hurried to where she knew she needed to be, she had to see it for herself--

The door had been left open, and Miranda could see the scene within laid out in front of her. The air hung heavy and silent, and Miranda understood why she had lost touch with Frigga. Grief didn’t even begin to describe the emotion in the room. 

*****

It was dark, and Miranda usually spent hours stargazing since the sky was so different on Asgard, but tonight her eyes were focused on the water. She absently soothed Ben when he started to fuss, but kept her eyes forward, watching the shadow of the boat that would become Frigga’s pyre float out to the edge. Her heart was still in her throat from saying her last goodbye. She hadn’t been able to get much out, and Ben had cried when Frigga didn’t respond to him. 

Miranda watched the first flaming arrow descend in a graceful arc, and let her tears roll freely as dozens of arrows followed, lighting the other pyres. She chewed her lip as she watched Frigga be added to the stars. She turned her gaze to her son as the lanterns floated up into the sky. Ben had fallen asleep in her arms, and she held him just a little tighter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave criticisms/comments!


	11. The Dark World, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand here's the rest of Dark World. In other news, I'm removing the current chapter 6 "Well Fuck You Too, Hydra", which was my really shitty attempt of fitting Winter Soldier into this universe. Which it doesn't (it's also really hard to quote a movie when you are going off memory alone). So I'm getting rid of it. And as a result, Steve doesn't know that Bucky is alive. (But he will.)  
> If you've already read that chapter, please disregard it. Thanks, and enjoy.

Miranda had given Laila a few days off, wanting to spend time alone with her son. She found herself sitting in Frigga’s chamber, staring at the faint dark stain on the stone floor. Ben cooed and babbled in her lap, trying to make her smile. 

“I wondered if I might find you here.” Miranda turned to look at the door. Thor sat next to her on the pool’s edge. “She thought of you as a daughter.”

“I should be comforting you,” she said softly. She looked at him, carefully reading his expression. 

“I will find comfort in defeating Malekith and destroying the Aether.” Miranda nodded. Everyone grieves differently.

“I don’t care what you have planned, just be careful.”

“But you know that it is treason.”

“Yes. That’s why you need to careful.” She paused. “When all this is over, I want to go home.”

“I will escort you there, sister, you have my word.”

“Thank you.” They sat in silence for a moment. “Go, brother. Save Jane and the Realms.” She hugged him as tightly as she could, and he squeezed her back gently. A small part of each of them thought of this as goodbye.

*****

The plan, thus far, was working. They had made it out of Asgard, and were now on Svartalfheim. Hopefully, their luck would hold out, and everything else would go just as smoothly. 

Thor covered Jane with a blanket, but let her rest.

“What I could do with the power that flows through those veins,” Loki mused.

“It would consume you,” Thor warned.

“She’s holding up alright. For now,” Loki added darkly.

“She’s strong in ways you’d never even know.” Strong in ways that Thor had only ever seen in humans. If Loki had ever paid attention, he would know. 

“Say goodbye,” Loki recommended.

“Not this day.”

“This day, the next, a hundred years-- it’s nothing. It’s a heartbeat. You’ll  _ never  _ be ready. The only woman whose love you  _ prized _ will be snatched from--”

“And will that satisfy you?” Thor interrupted, wondering how much of Loki’s words were directed at the speaker himself.

“Satisfaction's not in my nature.”

“Surrender’s not in mine.”

“Son of Odin,” Loki mocked.

“No, not just of Odin,” Thor said, rising. “You think you alone were loved of Mother? You had her tricks, but I had her trust.”

“Trust? Was that her last expression?  _ Trust _ ? When you  _ let her die? _ ”

“What help you were you, in your cell?”

“And who put me there? WHO PUT ME THERE?”

“You know damn well,” Thor growled, pushed Loki backwards. “You know damn well who.” He raised his fist, ready to punch Loki’s face, but stopped. “She wouldn’t want us to fight,” he said through his teeth. 

“Well she wouldn’t exactly be shocked.” The brothers smiled for a moment.

“I wish that I could trust you,” Thor said sadly, stepping back. Loki rose to his full height.

“Trust my rage,” he said quietly. 

*****

Thor’s plan was working. Loki’s betrayal looked real, his magic creating the effects necessary to achieve that end. Malekith withdrew the Aether from Jane, and while it was exposed--

“Loki, now!” Thor shouted. Loki removed his illusion as Thor called Mjolnir to him. Loki quickly moved to cover Jane as Thor struck the Aether with as much lightning as he could summon. The blast was almost deafening.

But as the dust began to settle, the broken shards of the Aether began to rise. And then Malekith had it in his possession. That would be a problem. A very big problem. The Elven warriors were easy enough to battle, but every moment they spent fight was another that Malekith was getting away. 

Loki had considered disappearing in the brief chaos, even if only for a second. But he couldn’t. For some reason, he felt tied to the spot, and as obliged to protect Jane as Thor did. So when he saw the black hole open, he didn’t think, he simply reacted, and pushed Jane out of the way. 

Was it cruel that he thought about Miranda at that moment, as he was being sucked into the black hole? That he regretted that his last conversation with her left her looking like he had truly broken her heart? He supposed it was. But hopefully Thor wouldn’t make the same mistakes that he had. He could get his second chance with his love, even if Loki never got his. 

If he hadn’t already been breathless, he would have gotten the wind knocked out of him when Thor collided into him, moving him away from the black hole. The brothers rose to their feet, taking a moment to take in the situation and find the best course of action. Thor, as always, plowed straight in. Loki had always fought with more finesse. He easily incapacitated the four elves that surrounded him before looking over to Thor. As satisfying as it was to watch the Kursed warrior pummel Thor into the ground, the universe needed to be saved. Which meant Thor needed to be saved. 

So Loki took a weapon from one of his fallen adversaries and lodged it in the Kursed warrior’s chest. He expected the warrior to collapse, to die quickly. Instead it seemed like all it did-- for a moment, anyway-- was piss him off. Loki hadn’t expected the Kursed to turn and impale him on the same weapon. But he took advantage of the close proximity to arm the grenade on his belt. 

“See you in hell, monster,” he grit out. He struggled-- and failed-- to stop shuddering. The grenade created a small, localized implosion, swallowing the Kursed. Finally, he was gone. That was a small relief. 

Loki collapsed, no longer able to hold himself up. Suddenly Thor was there, holding him. 

“Oh, you fool, you didn’t listen.”

“I know, I’m a fool, I’m a fool.” Dying hurt more than he thought it would. 

“Stay with me, okay?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he choked out. Thor shushed him gently. There was a similar feeling of comfort to when Miranda had calmed him after a nightmare. Loki supposed this wasn’t much different. 

“It’s alright,” Thor whispered, his voice threatening to fail him. He had just lost his mother, could Fate be so cruel as to take his brother from him again? “I’ll tell Father what you did here today,” he promised.

“I didn’t do it for him.” Loki closed his eyes, and stilled.

Fate was that cruel. 

*****

Miranda bounced lightly, rocking back and forth. Ben’s eyes slowly drooped, and finally stayed closed. She held him for a little while longer, just to be sure that he was asleep, before laying him down in his cradle. She quietly left the nursery, and grabbed a book before perching on the window bench to soak up some sun. After nearly losing all light, it seemed more precious now. 

After staring at the same page for several minutes, Miranda set the book down. She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Soon, she hoped, she would be home. 

A knock at the door broke the silence. Miranda slowly turned her head to look at the door. She stared at it tiredly before she heard another knock. She sighed, and putting on a more lively face, went to answer the door. 

“Thor!” she smiled. “You’re back!” She hugged him, standing on her tiptoes to reach over his shoulders. She ushered him in, closing the door as quietly as she could. “Is Jane alright? Where is she?”

“Jane is safe on Earth,” Thor told her. Miranda paused, frowning. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned. She kicked herself for not noticing how sad he looked. “Brother, what happened?” she pressed when he didn’t answer. 

“Loki is dead,” he informed her. Miranda blinked, the words not quite registering at first. She sat down on one of the plush cushions, her brow furrowing as the news sunk in. “He died nobly, protecting the universe.” She nodded. 

“Then he earned some redemption.” She hadn’t expected to feel like this. She was grieving when she expected to feel-- what? Relief? She wasn’t sure.

“I have an audience with my father soon, and I plan to leave Asgard shortly thereafter.”

“Where will you go?” 

“Earth. I have sworn to protect it, and will keep my oath. You said you wished to return home.”

“I do. I’m already packed,” she smirked. “I’m ready when you are.”


	12. Homeward Bound

Miranda gently covered Ben’s eyes as she stepped into the Bifrost. He squirmed, but Miranda held firm. Traveling by Bifrost was definitely better than traveling by Tesseract. It was much smoother. 

She politely-- she  _ definitely  _ didn’t feel awkward-- looked away as Thor and Jane shared a reunion kiss. Which was how she noticed the young woman staring at her from the doorway. She looked about the same age as Miranda herself, and was  _ not _ embarrassed about being caught staring. 

“Who’s the fancy lady?” she asked, assumably addressing Thor.

“I think they’re gonna be awhile,” Miranda smirked, nodding towards the couple. “I’m Miranda Douglas,” she introduced, “and this is my son, Ben. Mind if I come in?” 

“Sure. Wait, are you like,  _ the  _ Miranda Douglas? The one in the magazines and papers and shit?” The brunette asked her as they stepped off the balcony. 

“Uh, yeah,” she answered. 

“Oh, wait, shit, I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Darcy, Jane’s intern, that’s Erik Selvig, and that’s Ian, my intern,” she said, pointing to the men in turn. 

“Hello,” Miranda said politely. Ian waved, but Selvig just looked at her warily. “I’m not Loki’s ally,” she assured him. “I volunteered as much as you did.” She paused, then turned back to Darcy. “Wait, you have an intern?” 

“Well, yeah, but more importantly, how’d you know that’s what was bothering Erik?”

“I’m, uh, psychic? I guess that would be the best word for it,” she frowned. “I’m not certain myself. I just know that I can sense things about people, kinda read their thoughts.”

“That is so cool! What’s Ian thinking about?”

“Why me?” Ian groaned.

“Shush, just let her do the thing!” Miranda laughed. 

“Well, he  _ was _ thinking about you kissing him, but now he’s regretting becoming your intern.” 

“What am I thinking about?” Darcy asked next, after shooting a glare towards Ian.

“Kittens. And puppies.”

“Damn you’re good.” Miranda smiled, and shifted Ben in her arms. He babbled happily, mystified by everything that he could see. She really hoped that coming back to Earth was the right decision for them both. So far, so good. 

*****

Miranda sighed and stared at the phone in her hand. She’d gotten voicemail again, and decided that she would only try one more time, leave a message, and leave it at that. Clearly he was busy. 

“You’ve reached the voicemail box of--” She cut off the automated message by pressing one to leave a message. After the beep, she started talking. 

“Hey, um, it’s me, Andy. I tried calling you a bunch, but I guess you’re busy. I’m not surprised, but I wanted to talk to you. I figured you should know that I’m back on Earth, and I’m fine. Mostly. I’ve got some stories you’d probably like. And a kid I’d like you to meet. His name is Ben.” She paused, picking at the hem of the SHIELD t-shirt she was wearing. “I’m, uh, in London right now. This is actually Dr. Foster’s phone. But I’m leaving with a SHIELD team soon. So, I guess you could go through them to contact me. I miss you, and hope to hear from you soon. Bye.” She hung up. She opened the door and stepped back inside, off the balcony. She handed the phone back to Jane. 

“No luck reaching your uncle?” 

“No. He’s probably busy; he always was before, and now there’s aliens, so,” Miranda shrugged. “We’ll catch up eventually.” Jane nodded, and turned back to the pile of papers scattered on the table in front of her. There was still a lot of data from the Convergence to decipher. Miranda didn’t understand any of it, but she knew that anything discovered from this would be groundbreaking. 

She sat down on the floor next to Darcy, who was attempting to teach Ben to play patty cake.

“How long have you been at this?” Miranda laughed when she saw the look of concentration on Darcy’s face.  

“About an hour. I think he’s almost got the basics down.” Darcy clapped her hands together and Ben mirrored her. When she reached out to clap his hands, he grabbed her finger. “You’re supposed to clap! Here, watch your mom.” Darcy turned and looked at Miranda expectantly. Miranda rolled her eyes, grinning, as she shifted. 

The young women went through the motions of the familiar childhood game, glancing at Ben every few moments to make sure he was both paying attention and still there. He had started scooting around the last few days, and was prone to trying to explore. Which was definitely not safe with all the research and science equipment lying around. When they finished, they turned back to Ben, who made grabby hands and then clapped. 

“Alright, kiddo, let’s do this,” Darcy said seriously. She clapped her hands together, and Ben mirrored her again. But this time, when she reached out, he clapped her hands. Darcy punched the air. “Yes! Come on, let’s go on.” Miranda chuckled, and watched Darcy continue to struggle (and nearly succeed) in teaching Ben to play patty cake. 

*****

Later that afternoon, Miranda was struggling to buckle Ben into the carseat SHIELD provided. 

“Why is this so complicated?” she asked Ben, her tone light for his benefit even though she was about ready to punch something. “Oh, wait.. Haha! Got it,” she said, clicking the strap into place. “Your mom’s a mess, kiddo,” she smiled at Ben. He babbled happily, reaching for her. She pressed a kiss to his cheek before stepping out of the car a moment to say goodbye. 

“Thank you for letting us stay here, Jane.”

“You’re welcome. It was nice to have someone who actually knows how to cook.”

“Hey! I can cook!” Darcy objected, leaning back out of the car where she had been tickling Ben. 

“Scrambled eggs don’t count, Darcy,” Jane retorted. Darcy grumbled something under her breath as she turned her attention back to Ben. The other two women shook their heads, smiling fondly. Miranda turned to Thor, and the pair hugged. 

“I guess I won’t be seeing you for awhile. It’s kinda weird, I’m the one leaving for a change,” she laughed. 

“I shall miss your company and your council, sister.”

“And I yours.” They hugged again, and then Miranda shooed Darcy out of the car so she could get in. That was when Miranda learned that Darcy gave  _ really  _ tight hugs.

“You’re pretty great, you know,” Darcy said seriously. “It was nice to have someone around who wasn’t all Science! And your kid’s cute.”

“Thanks,” Miranda laughed. “You’re pretty great, too, Darcy.” She climbed into the car and buckled in. She rolled the window down to wave as they pulled away from the curb. She closed it when they were halfway down the block. Her attention flowed between Ben and the bits of London passing by outside. 

After a few minutes, she felt a tiny prickle at the back of her skull. Something was wrong. Even Ben seemed to notice, as he stopped smiling and looked up at his mother with all the seriousness a six and a half month old baby could have. She looked at the agents sitting in the front seat, skirting around their consciousness to try and piece together what was going on. 

Then they passed the turn for the airport. Miranda swallowed thickly as a pit of dread grew in her stomach. She glanced at the rear view mirror, making eye contact with the driver.

“Agent Rumlow, where are we going?” she demanded, still sifting through the agents’ minds. Her eyes widened when she found something she wasn’t expecting. Rumlow sighed, shaking his head. 

“Pierce said you were smart,” he said dryly. “We were hoping you would cooperate, though.” Miranda looked at the other agent, who had turned to face her. Her eyes flicked between the gun barrel pointed at her and the agent’s face. 

This was bad. Very, very bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to go so much smoother now without CATWS getting in my way. What the hell was I thinking adding it in so soon (or at all)???  
> And nice things are coming... eventually... 
> 
> You can come yell at me on tumblr: http://captainsleepingbeauty.tumblr.com/


	13. There's No Place Like Here

“Andy,” someone said. “Andy,” they repeated, this time shaking her shoulder.  
“Mhm?” She sat up, peeling her cheek off her textbook. “What?” Her brow furrowed. “Where am I?” Miranda glanced around, eyes lingering on the artist’s rendition of Asgard in the book before moving on to the table, the cabinets, the walls, Stacy--  
“You’re in the kitchen, silly,” Stacy teased, yawning. “You fell asleep studying, again.”   
“I had a really vivid dream,” Miranda muttered, staring at the empty glass and plate in front of her. “‘M not gonna combine… whatever that was again.”  
“You sound like you’re still in your dream world,” Stacy giggled, pouring water into the coffee maker.  
“It seemed so real,” Miranda countered, rubbing her eyes. “Fucked up though.”  
“Ooh, I gotta hear this then,” Stacy said, starting the coffee. “Your dreams are great.” Miranda rolled her eyes at her friend. “Come on,” she pleaded, taking a seat across from Miranda.  
“We were at JFK,” Miranda began.  
“I was there?”  
“For a little bit. Are you gonna let me tell you or not?” Stacy mimed zipping her lips and locking them. “Anyway, we were waiting for our flight, and these weird aliens attacked, and they were lead by Loki.”  
“Seriously? Maybe I need to take away your books.”   
“Don’t you dare.”  
“I’m kidding. What next?”  
“I got kidnapped? Er, well, Loki conquered the world, and then I was… a concubine? No, mistress? I don’t know, it was weird,” she said, shaking her head.   
“Was he hot?”  
“Hm?”  
“Your dream Loki, was he hot?”  
“Yeah, I guess. He looked kinda like Tom, the English lit major?”  
“Nice,” Stacy said appreciatively, imagining what he must of looked like.  
“I had a son,” Miranda muttered.   
“Bruh, no,” Stacy said, snapping back to reality. “If I’ve learned anything from your rants, it’s that you don’t have kids with Norse gods.”  
“I know,” Miranda laughed. “Good thing it was just a dream, right?” But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it hadn’t been a dream.  
“Yeah.” Stacy got up and padded over to the coffee maker, which had stopped gurgling. “Wanna cup?”  
“Sure,” Miranda replied. “Think I need it,” she yawned.   
“I’ll say. Drink up,” Stacy ordered, setting a cup down in front of her. “You’ve got an exam in just over an hour.”  
“Ugh,” Miranda moaned, stirring in some sugar.   
“But we’re three days from Oslo,” Stacy sang. “My last exam is tomorrow morning, yours tomorrow afternoon, and my parents are going to be here the day after to help us move out, and then off to the airport!”  
“I can’t wait,” Miranda smiled, taking a sip of her coffee. She unlocked her phone and opened up Facebook. Several people had shared an article about something that had happened in Germany the night before. Miranda opened the fifth article she came across. She read it quickly, and her frown deepened as she read on. She stopped at the slightly blurred image embedded in the article.   
“What happened?” Stacy asked, peering over her shoulder. “Who’s that?”  
“Loki,” Miranda whispered. Her mouth felt dry. “I have to go,” she said, quickly getting up from her seat, throwing the rest of her coffee down her throat. She quickly brushed her hair and grabbed her bookbag.   
“What’s got you all riled up?” Miranda stared at her. Hadn’t she just shared her dream?  
“I have a few questions for one of my professors, I want to see if I can get them answered before my exam,” Miranda explained, shoving her things into her bag. “See ya!” She nearly ran out of the building, fumbling with the keys on her lanyard till she found her car key. She could walk, but she wanted all the time she could get, and driving was faster.   
~~~~~  
Miranda rolled over, groaning. She blearily looked around for her phone to turn off the alarm.   
“Three in the morning? Why the fuck--” She looked at the date. “Oh,” she muttered, realizing her flight was in three hours. She sank back into the couch cushions, throwing an arm over her eyes. “Why?” she grumbled, rolling off the couch after a minute. “Why did I do this to myself?”  
She grabbed her clothes that she had set out and her bathroom bag before making her way to the bathroom as quietly as she could. Twenty minutes later she emerged, her hair still damp.  
“Mornin’,” Stacy mumbled, padding into the bathroom the shower herself. Miranda hummed in response, continuing back to the living room to grab her stuff.   
“Andy, do you want a cup of coffee?” Stacy’s mom whispered.  
“Oh, no thanks,” Miranda whispered back. “I’ll get something at the airport.”  
“Okay. That’s probably easier, isn’t it?” Miranda nodded, picking up her stuff to take it out to the car. Stacy’s mom held the door for her.   
“Thanks for driving us,” Miranda said once they were by the car.   
“No problem, dear. It’s cheaper, and I get to see my baby girl off.”   
“I understand. I’d want to see my son off.”  
“I didn’t know you had a kid,” she said, surprised. Miranda blinked, frowning. Something was wrong.   
“Ben,” she breathed. “Oh, god, where’s Ben?” she asked, frantic. “Where’s my son?”  
*****  
Miranda’s eyes flew open, but she quickly pinched them shut. The bright white light was blinding. Slowly, she opened them again, her eyes adjusting to the light. She tried to move, but the restraints kept her in place. Multiple IV tubes were connected to her arm, and she could hear something whirring around her head.   
“Oh, dear, you woke up,” drawled a familiar voice. “I suppose we’ll have to increase the dosage then, won’t we, Miss Douglas?” The man came around the table into Miranda’s line of sight.   
“You bastard,” she growled, straining against the restraints. She wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.   
“No, I believe that’s your son,” Pierce countered. Miranda was fuming.  
“What have you done to him?”  
“Nothing yet. He’s too young. We wouldn’t want to lose another asset.” Pierce stepped out of the way of a young woman in a lab coat. Miranda tried to turn to track her, but couldn’t. “For your sake, Miss Douglas, I suggest that you stay under.” Miranda blinked, her eyelids feeling heavier each time until she couldn’t open them anymore.   
*****  
“Andy, wake up, we’re landing.”  
“Hm?” Miranda jumped a little, then rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She shook the sleep from her head as she took in her surroundings. The plane lights were fully on, and sunlight streamed in through the open windows. Miranda opened her own shade and watched as New York grew closer and closer.   
“You had weird dream, didn’t you?”  
“Yeah, I was in a lab…”  
“Ugh, I hated those. I’m so glad I never have to have another lab for the rest of my life.”  
“Yeah…” Miranda didn’t bother to try and explain that it hadn’t been that kind of lab. It was easier to let Stacy think that she had been in a chem lab or something that was so much more benign. She just hoped she wouldn’t have another nightmare like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can come yell at me on tumblr: http://captainsleepingbeauty.tumblr.com/


	14. Reality Check

After a short layover in New York (consisting of trying to find the right gate and grab something to eat), the two young travellers were taking off on their trans-Atlantic flight. As they hit altitude, Stacy pulled a deck of cards out of her carry-on. 

“What do you wanna play?”

“Let’s play War. Might take a few minutes, might take a few hours.” 

“That it could,” Stacy grinned, beginning to shuffle the cards. “Hey, so you know how you had a crush on Sergeant Barnes when you were younger? Sorry,  _ have _ a crush on Sergeant Barnes?”

“I’m regretting ever telling you that.” Stacy smirked. 

“You shouldn’t have gotten into a drunken debate about who the hottest Howling Commando was with Harper in front of me,” she said simply. “Or told me that you and your friend Raoul made an agreement in eighth grade that you two would build a time machine and rescue Barnes and Captain America and then marry them.”

“Remind me why I’m friends with you again?”

“I’m a good roommate and speak German.”

“Mhm, right,” Miranda hummed, sounded unconvinced even though she was grinning. 

“And I’m pretty,” Stacy added, batting her eyelashes. The pair burst into laughter. Stacy dealt the cards, splitting the deck in half. “Ready?” she asked, tapping her card pile into a nice stack. Miranda did the same. 

“Ace high, right?”

“Always.” They each flipped over their top card. Stacy took Miranda’s two with her eight. They engaged in easy conversation, flipping their cards and taking their winnings as they chatted. It took the better part of an hour, but eventually Stacy won the hand. Miranda shuffled and dealt the next hand. Stacy won again. 

“You’re cheating,” Miranda teased as Stacy shuffled for the third round. 

“Can’t help it if you suck at War, Andy,” she retorted, her tone light and teasing as well. “Guessing you want to go for best three out of five?” 

“Sure,” Miranda replied, tapping her cards into a stack. Miranda ended up winning the next to hands. 

“And now,” Stacy said in a deep announcer voice, “the moment you’ve all been waiting for: SUDDEN DEATH! This is it folks, winner takes all.”

“And what’s the winner take?” Miranda inquired, holding back laughter. 

“Hmmm…. The bag of pretzels?”

“You’re on.” 

~~~~~

Miranda rested her head tiredly on Stacy’s shoulder, waiting for her bag to come around on the baggage carousel. Stacy nudged her when she saw her own bag approach, and Miranda straightened so she could go get it. Miranda noticed that she was wearing a t-shirt with the Norwegian flag on it. Her own shirt had “Norway Since 1814” scrawled across it around a flag. Stacy came back, lugging two suitcases behind her. 

“Saw yours and figured you didn’t want to fight through the crowd to get it,” she explained, rolling it towards her, offering the handle. 

“Thanks,” Miranda yawned, grabbing it. 

“It’s good to be home,” Stacy sighed. “My parents said they were on their way. They’ll send a text when they get here.”

“Mkay,” Miranda mumbled, rubbing her eyes. She thought she had just been on the flight  _ to  _ Norway, not  _ landing _ in Minnesota. But, whatever. It was pretty clear her brain wasn’t all together functioning anymore. 

“Are you still switching back to English?” Stacy asked as she directed her friend to a bench. “Or are you just that jetlagged?”

“Both, I think,” Miranda smiled tiredly. “‘M not sure.” She leaned forward, resting her head in her hands. She closed her eyes. “I just feel weird. I keep having chunks of my memory go missing, like they never even happened.” She opened her eyes and tracked a mother carrying a baby in one of those car seat carriers. She made a mental note to get one for Ben. “Sometimes it feels like none of this is real,” she groaned, leaning back, letting her head fall back against the wall.

“Maybe it’s because it’s not,” suggested the man sitting a few feet away. “Did you ever think of that, doll?” Miranda rolled her head to look at the stranger, and sat ramrod straight when she realised he  _ wasn’t _ a stranger. 

“James?” she breathed. She almost didn’t want him to answer, to break the illusion. But her question had been enough.

*****

She sucked in a deep breath, nearly panicking as she woke up. The bright lights of the lab blinded her for a moment, but it was a welcome sensation because it was  _ real _ and she knew in her bones that it was. 

She felt like her cells were on fire, but it was a good burn, a burn that screamed  _ I’m real, I’m alive _ with every second of it. She felt so aware-- almost too aware-- of her surroundings now that her brain remembered that it could look into others. She felt the cool metal underneath her, the rough straps around her ankles, wrists, hips, and chest. She felt the buzz of rapid fire thought around her, and felt like she was at the center of the storm. She closed her eyes for a moment and focused on breathing. When she opened them, she had come back to herself. Her senses were no longer in overdrive, and her heart was still pumping steadily. 

She heard a sigh off to her right. Her eyes were drawn in that direction by instinct. 

“Make a note that she woke up when the Asset was brought into the room,” Pierce ordered one of the scientists. 

Miranda didn’t really care, she was too busy staring at James, who was  _ alive _ , and  _ right there _ , and… didn’t recognise her. She tried entering his mind, to talk to him, to tell him  _ I miss you, Steve misses you, I named my son after you _ , but she was met with the mental equivalent of tar. What wasn’t thick and messy felt like chalk, but she persisted as gently as she could, because she  _ knew _ that he was in there. 

“Miss Douglas, you really do have an incredible mind,” Pierce said. She tore her gaze away from James to track Pierce as he moved closer to her. “This is the third time you’ve woken up, and Dr. Jones here tells me that it’s too dangerous to up the dosage anymore. It could damage your perception of reality permanently.” He was standing next to the table now, blocking her view of James. Pierce was really lucky she was restrained. “But I wonder how much you can withstand.”

“What do you want from me?” she demanded dryly. 

“You nearly cost us our most valuable asset, Miss Douglas.”

“He’s a  _ person _ , not some  _ weapon _ you can just take off the shelf when it suits you!”

“Dr. Jones, up the dosage.”

“Sir,--”

“I’m aware of the risks, Dr. Jones,” Pierce interrupted harshly. “Progress requires that we push the boundaries of what is known.” Miranda set her jaw, and had never wished to kill someone so much. She heard Dr. Jones adjust the IV, and closed her eyes, waiting. This time, she would go under willingly, and this time,  _ she _ would be in control. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay? Nay? I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions!   
> If you'd rather share them anonymously, you can do so through my tumblr ask. Find me at captainsleepingbeauty.tumblr.com


	15. From One Nazi Scientist to Another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter that's close to 2k. I'm not sure if it's a good thing or not that it's getting easier to write longer chapters, but I guess that's up to you guys.  
> And the Avengers are back! They're going to be around a lot now. Enjoy!

“Seriously? That’s what you were doing?” Natasha asked incredulously. 

“You think I’m making it up?” Tony countered. 

“No, we saw the news, we know it happened,” Clint said. “Just surprised that you didn't call any of us.”

“That’s what I said when he told me about it.”

“Bruce, you fell asleep,” Tony countered. “You didn’t say anything. And guys, I couldn’t even get to  _ Pepper _ for most of that, how could I have possibly reached any of you?”

“Fair enough,” Natasha conceded. 

“How did something like Extremis even get off the ground?” 

“Probably another attempt at a super soldier serum, Cap,” Clint theorised. “Everybody’s been trying to recreate it.”

“Pardon the interruption, but Director Fury is in the lobby and wishes to speak to you all,” Jarvis announced.

“Send ‘em up, Jarvis,” Tony said. 

“Good, you’re all here,” Fury said as he stepped off the elevator. “We got a new lead on a Hydra base,” he continued, handing a flashdrive to Tony. Tony twirled it around, examining it before plugging it in. “Three weeks ago, Thor was in London; I assume you all saw the news.” The group nodded. “Two days later, he returned to London, with Miranda Douglas and her son in tow. She contacted SHIELD shortly after, and we set up a safe house for her. That was two weeks ago.”

“She never made it to the safe house,” Natasha stated. Everyone understood that it wasn’t a question. 

“No, she didn’t. She was picked up by two agents in London, but they never checked in after that.”

“Who were the agents?” Steve asked. 

“Agents Rumlow and Barker,” Fury replied. Steve and Natasha exchanged a glance. “The assumption is that Agents Rumlow and Barker are Hydra, and took her to a Hydra base instead of a SHIELD one.”

“I’m assuming you mean this place?” Tony asked, gesturing to the satellite image that had been on the flash drive. It looked like a warehouse nestled in a forest.

“I do. It’s in Belgium, near the German border.”

“Why do you think Hydra took her there?” asked Natasha.

“If you’d open the video file, Mr. Stark,” Fury requested before continuing. “Yesterday afternoon some of our analysts came across an encrypted signal, which they were able to trace back to the warehouse. Once they decrypted the file, we saw this,” he said, gesturing to the screen. 

The lab was pristine, all stark white and shining metal. They couldn’t see much else around the scientist sitting in front of the screen. 

“Mr. Pierce said that the Council wanted to be informed about our progress,” the scientist began. “The combination of hallucinogens and dissociative chemicals allowed us to put the subject in a dream state that we have been able to control with the use of MYH-10T device. While it has worked successfully thus far, she has woken up three times,” he said nervously, adjusting his glasses. “But, with an increased dosage, she was successfully put back in a dream state. The dosage is now a 65 parts per 100 of the combination. Any higher, and I expect that it will kill her. The only reason I believe she is still breathing is because the serum from last July worked.” His eyes darted away from the camera, presumably to look at the screen in front of him. “Of course,” he said sharply, accepting an order that the current viewers weren’t privy to. He typed in a command and the camera shifted. Now they could see the lab from above. 

In the center of the lab was a metal table with some sort of device at the head. Strapped down on the table was a young woman in a hospital gown. The device was around her head, nearly covering her face. The camera zoomed in on her, focusing on what could be seen of her face. Even though her hair had been mostly shaved off, Miranda Douglas was still recogniseable. Her eyes darted back and forth beneath closed eyelids, but the rest of her face remained still, passive. 

“Ah, yes,” the scientist said off screen, answering a question from his intended audience. “She did wake up when the Asset was brought into the room. Since then her brain waves have been stronger, spiking more frequently. It could be a coincidence, and the change in brain waves is the result of the increased dosage.” The camera switched back to the same as before, and he sat back down. “But it’s hard to say,” he sighed, “since she’s also psychically enabled. Each time she woke up she seemed to be more acutely aware that this was reality, rather than the dream world we have created.” 

Fury paused the video. 

“He goes on for awhile, mostly medical babble that we haven’t been able to make heads or tails of yet. We’ve been able to identify him as Dr. Hammond Jones, an experimental psychologist. He dropped off the face of the Earth about two months ago. Now we know what he’s been up to.”

“It sounds like they’re using her as a lab rat,” Bruce said. “Trying to figure out how well this concoction works, and how much people can withstand.” 

“It certainly seems that way, doctor,” Fury nodded. 

“He mentioned a ‘serum from last July,’” Natasha said, “any idea what that is?”

“Not yet. It could be something akin to Extremis, or something completely different. I have a small team running tests on her blood samples from last December, to see if they can find anything.”

“Why brief us on this? Why not send a team of SHIELD agents?” Tony asked. 

“Cause the agents that picked her up were SHIELD,” Steve said, his jaw set. “Rumlow was on my STRIKE team. If we can’t trust someone from there, who’s to say we can trust anyone else? Obviously there’s still Hydra in SHIELD.”

“Something I’m trying very hard to keep under wraps. I want to know just how deep this goes,” Fury said darkly. “I’d rather Hydra not know that we know they’re still among us.”

“So you send us because we’ve been taking down Hydra bases when we find them,” Clint concluded. Fury nodded. The team glanced at each other, and with a few shrugs, pointed glares, and set jaws, they had come to a consensus. 

“Jarvis, prep the quinjet,” Tony ordered. 

“As you wish, sir.”

*****

Miranda was definitely not in control. She wasn’t even sure what was going on, but she was terrified. She was covered in mud and a rifle was tucked snuggly into her shoulder, the scope focused on something in one of the trees several yards away. She could hear shouting around her, and there were bright flashes followed by deafening booms periodically. 

_ Artillery fire _ , her brain supplied. 

She shifted, watching the battle unfold through her scope. She fired a few times, making her mark each time, but it wasn’t helping much. The enemy was winning. Their weapons were unlike anything she had ever seen. What kind of weapon had a bright blue discharge? And why the hell were they firing on the other Nazis?

It wasn’t long before the signal to retreat was given. She stayed where she was, supplying cover for the rest of her unit, and the other units as well. 

“Sarge! Let’s move!” one of the men shouted at her. She took a deep breath, taking stock of the situation. She saw that the Germans were already rounding up prisoners, mostly the injured, but a few that were too stubborn or righteous to leave their buddies behind. 

She scrambled out of her makeshift sniper’s nest, her boots crunching softly on the late spring frost, ready to run. She felt bad, retreating when her fellows were being rounded up. But she didn’t get far before she was surrounded herself. Sighing, she shrugged off her rifle strap and laid the weapon down at her feet. As she rose, she kept her hands visible.

_ I’m sorry, Stevie, _ she thought as they came closer to her. She wasn’t quite sure what she was sorry for, but it felt right to be sorry. She supposed it was because she had left him alone in Brooklyn, but at least he was safe there, away from the war.

As they marched through the small town, she thought she saw a sign that read ‘Azzano’. 

~~~~~

The cells that they were kept in were tall cylinders in two rows. Seven or eight guys were in each. The scene shifted, ebbing and flowing. She could tell because some of the faces changed, and the light. Every once in awhile, someone would be marched off under escort, never to return. Their screams sometimes echoed through the brick hallways.

She was too weak from hunger to make much of a fight when they grabbed her, but that didn’t mean she didn’t try. 

She knew she was going to die, and she had failed. She had failed her men, and the others there, but most importantly, she had failed Steve. The little punk was going to be alone, and she’d never see him again, and she had broken her promise to him. She wasn’t going to be able to come home.

~~~~~

At this point she wasn’t surprised to feel a cold metal table underneath her, but when she opened her eyes, what she saw didn’t match the sensation. The dark, dirty ceiling was supported by brick walls, and there was a raised portion of the room where she could just barely see a map pinned to the wall through the railing.

She heard a voice to her left and turned to it. She recognised the small man, but couldn’t quite place him. He shined a light in her eyes, and made a note on his clipboard. 

Then everything shifted slightly. She was in the same room, on the same table, but the man wasn’t standing over her anymore, and it was hard to focus on anything because of the pain. It was like burning, like freezing, and the sensation of it-- while overwhelming-- was familiar.

And the small man was back. He was saying things that she couldn’t hear. It was like they were underwater: she could hear noise, but no words accompanied it. 

Then small man was gone, but the pain was still there. She could feel her lips moving, repeating the same thing over and over, and her throat feel dry and sore, but she kept repeating whatever it was over and over, almost like a prayer. 

_ Maybe God will hear me and I’ll get to see Steve again. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this story had a plot, I'm just not very good at conveying it. (But I think you can see it if you squint...)  
> Check out my tumblr, if you'd like: captainsleepingbeauty.tumblr.com


	16. When History Repeats

There weren’t many armed agents in the base. The team quickly discovered that most of the people in the building were scientists and researchers of all different backgrounds. 

“I got into the security system,” Natasha said over the comms. “The kid is in the northwest corner, and Douglas is in the central lab. Clint, if you turn down the hall to your left, the kid’s in the third room on the right. Cap, the lab is straight ahead.”

“Got it,” Clint responded.

“On my way,” Steve said. They both headed in the direction that Natasha had pointed them. Clint got to his destination first. They could hear the scuffle over the comms, then Clint’s voice came through.

“The kid’s okay. I’ve got him.” There was a collective sigh of relief. “You’re gonna have to get their files though, Stark, to really make sure he’s alright.”

“I’m working on it,” Tony replied. 

“I’m going into the lab now,” Steve informed the rest of his team. 

“It’s empty except for Douglas from what I can see, Cap,” Natasha said. “Caution wouldn’t hurt, though.”

“I’m always cautious,” Steve smirked as he opened the door. He could practically hear Natasha roll her eyes. 

The scene that greeted him was nearly identical to the image that they had seen in the video. A few things had been shifted around, and there was a new IV bag on the hook. It wasn’t until he was disconnecting the IV from her arm that he noticed she was mumbling something. 

“... Sergeant, 32557038. Barnes, James Buchanan, Sergeant, 32557038. Barnes…” Now that wasn’t right. Why would she be saying that? Steve swallowed thickly, wondering what kind of cruel trick this was. 

He pushed his thoughts to the side as he undid the straps holding her on the table. Then he slid the machine away from her head. She groaned, her head lolling to the side. Slowly, she opened her eyes and blinked blearily up at him. 

“Steve?” she asked groggily. The deja vu was beginning to be too much. 

“I’m here, Miss Douglas, you’re alright.” She frowned. The Steve in her head was dressed differently. His helmet was, well, a  _ helmet _ , and he was wearing a leather jacket. He helped her to her feet, and she swayed dangerously for a moment before steadying herself. At least that was consistent. 

_ “I thought you were dead,”  _ the Steve in her head said. 

_ “I thought you were smaller, _ ” she replied. Which was strange; she had never known him to be smaller. 

“Can you walk?” asked the Steve in front of her. Since when was he all business?

“I think so,” she slurred. She wanted to ask,  _ What happened to you? _ For the moment she just held herself steady, using his arms for support. She blinked, shaking her head. Steve noticed that the glassy look in her eyes was fading. She took him in, as though seeing him for the first time. “Captain,” she said urgently, “he’s here.”

“Barton has your son, he’s safe,” he assured her. 

“No, no, not him.  _ James. _ He’s here, they have him again,” she pressed, her voice wavering and eyes filling with tears. “We can’t leave him, we can’t.” When he didn’t seem to understand, she continued, “Bucky--  _ he’s alive. _ They-- they have him, turned him into a-- a weapon. But he’s here, we can save him, Steve.” She was pleading, squeezing his arms tightly. She was so damn desperate that Steve almost believed her. 

“Let’s get you out of here first,” he said, scooping her up. He was fairly certain that she wouldn’t be able to walk out of here. 

_ “No! Not without you!” _ she shouted in her mind. She was glad her brain was wrong because it would suck if everything was on fire. 

In the real world-- as she was slowly believing that this was the real world-- she wrapped her arms around Steve’s neck as he carried her bridal style. 

_ Raoul would be so jealous if he could see me now _ , she thought. It was a bit bittersweet. 

Steve noticed that she seemed to slump against him. He figured it was from exhaustion, or maybe she was leaning into him because he was warm. It didn’t really matter. What  _ did _ matter, however, was why she suddenly stiffened when they were halfway down the hallway. When he looked down at her, she was peeking over his shoulder. 

“Bucky,” she whispered, her voice catching slightly. Slowly, Steve turned around to see what she could. 

At the end of the hall stood a man clad in black with a gleaming metal arm. His other arm was extended, a pistol in his hand trained on the two people in the world that considered him a friend. 

Steve gently set Miranda on her feet before stepping in front of her, his shield in front of them both. She was still swaying slightly, but she was already much better than she had been a few minutes before. Her brain was still flooded with images and memories she was beginning to recognise as definitely not hers, but she wasn’t sure whose they were. 

Right now she could hear the echoes of another man standing on the other side of a fiery chasm: “ _ You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality you are just too afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you, I embrace it proudly, without fear.” _

She hated that man, but hated the little man that was next to him even more. The smaller man was the one who had done things to her. No, not her, she reminded herself. To  _ Bucky _ .

So that’s whose memories these were.

In the present, she was leaning against the wall for support, watching Steve slowly close the distance between him and Bucky. She swallowed thickly. 

“Don’t hurt him!” she called out. She wasn’t sure which of them she was speaking to, or if 

it was directed at both of them. 

“I’m gonna need someone to get her out of here,” Steve said into the comm. 

“On it,” came Clint’s response. “The kid’s safe on the quinjet with Bruce.”

“I’m really not comfortable with this,” Bruce muttered, his own comm just barely picking his voice up. 

Miranda quickly learned that gunshots were very loud in enclosed spaces. After the first shot, she pressed herself into one of the doorways. She clamped her hands over her ears and watched the fight at the other end of the hall. 

Steve quickly disarmed Bucky, the gun skittering across the linoleum. Bucky, without missing a beat, switched over to a knife that had been on his belt. They were evenly matched, it seemed. 

Miranda jumped when someone tapped her elbow, instinctively moving to punch them. Clint caught her fist before it collided with his cheek. 

“Come on, kid, let’s get you out of here,” he said, slinging her arms over his shoulders. It was a bit awkward due to the height difference, but they both knew that she needed the support. 

“I’m not sure who Steve is fighting, but the lack of security makes sense now,” Natasha said, still watching the security feeds. “Clint, hang a right and go up the stairs. Tony’s bringing the quinjet to us.” She quickly left to head to the roof herself. “You hear that, Cap? Get to the roof.”

“Will do,” Steve grit out. 

“Or would you like some help?” she asked playfully, already changing direction to head towards him. She went a bit faster when Steve didn’t respond. When she got the hallway, they were just standing there, staring at each other and breathing heavily.

“Bucky?” Steve gasped. He couldn’t believe his own eyes, but Miranda hadn’t been lying to him. Bucky cocked his head to the side, as though he was trying the name on for size. His mask lied abandoned on the floor. “Bucky, it’s me, Steve.” 

“Steve,” Bucky repeated, the word rolling off his tongue his tongue easily. There was something familiar about it, he could tell. 

“Guys, we need to get out of here. Somebody called for air support,” Clint said urgently, watching the blips on the radar come closer. 

Natasha sighed, and stepped fully into the hallway. In the time it took for Steve to see who was coming, the other man slipped away. Natasha was impressed by his skill. 

“Steve, we’ve got to move.”

“I-- I have to go find him.”

“We don’t have time,” Natasha said, grabbing his elbow. “Besides, he’s got a metal arm, how hard can he be to find?” She paused and turned to face him. “We’ll find him, Cap. But in order to do that we have to get out of here alive.” Steve nodded, and followed her through the complex up to the roof and up the later into the quinjet. 

As soon as they were safely aboard, they took off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have dug myself a hole but I will climb out of it, just you wait. (Please bear with me here.)


	17. Protection and Safety Are In Short Supply

The flight back to New York was quiet. The humm of the quinjet engines lulled Ben to sleep after they gained altitude, and there wasn’t much noise beyond them. Bruce administered what first aid he could to both Douglases, and Tony was tapping away on a tablet, sorting through Hydra’s files. Clint and Nat sat in the cockpit, communicating mostly through gestures and glances. Steve stared at the floor, trying to process everything. 

Miranda chewed her lip, feeling awful about the whole situation. She really should have told him who the Winter Soldier was; maybe he would have been better prepared when he found him. But she couldn’t find the words to apologise properly. Part of her still thought of Steve as the hero she had learned about in school, researched on her own, admired with her uncle and friends; but part of her also thought of him as the skinny, sassy, brave, reckless punk that Bucky had remembered. She wasn’t quite sure who she was trying to apologise to.  

When they landed, Miranda followed Bruce to the medical center of the tower. She hesitated to leave Ben with one of the nurses, but reluctantly did so after Bruce assured her he was in safe hands. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, genuinely concerned. 

“Alright. A little shaken, but I’ll be fine. I think.” Her sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know, though, ‘cause I’m not entirely sure this is  _ real _ . The more I try to convince myself that it is with my memories from before Asgard, the fuzzier and stranger those memories seem, and it’s harder to accept this as reality. But the dreams or whatever they put in my head and fuzzy and strange, too.” 

“They were experimenting with very strong hallucinogenic and dissociative chemicals. Even the scientist who was experimenting on you was worried about damaging your perception of reality.” Miranda nodded, vaguely understanding what he meant. It felt like her brain was the embodiment of radio static, of the space between radio stations where you pick up two stations, but aren’t really picking up either station. 

“I think they might of,” she mumbled. 

They didn’t talk much as Miranda was examined, scanned, and hooked up to an IV since she was dehydrated. They took a blood sample, and double checked to make sure the birth control implant had been removed from her arm (which it had been). When everything was over, she pulled her knees up under the blankets on the hospital bed. It was the first time she was alone enough to let herself react. She hadn’t realised that she had been shoving her emotions aside, but she must have been because she felt like she was drowning in a tidal wave of emotion. 

She leaned her head on her knees, burying her face in the blankets. Only then did she realize that she didn’t have any hair. Sure, she had noticed, how could you not notice the loss of nearly two feet of hair, but her brain had only just caught up to the fact that she didn’t have hair. It seemed inconsequential in the scheme of things, but it opened the floodgates, and she let herself cry. 

*****

Within a few days, both Douglases were allowed to leave the medical area. Clint went down to guide them up to the communal floor. 

“I’m fine,” Miranda said, slightly teasing, as the elevator doors closed. 

“Am I being obvious or is that what everyone is asking?” 

“Both,” she shrugged. “Mostly you just have parent vibes. Which leads me to ask, how old?”

“What?”

“How old are your kids? Or were you just an older sibling?”

“I was the younger one, but how the hell did you figure I have kids?”

“Mother’s intuition,” she smirked, shifting Ben’s weight to her other hip. “But I wasn’t sure until just now.” 

“Five and seven. I’m impressed that you figured it out though. But you can’t tell anyone. Nat’s the only one who knows.” Miranda nodded. 

“I won’t. If I could keep him a secret, I would,” she responded, bouncing Ben lightly. “But I doubt that that’s possible.”

“Unfortunately, you’re probably right.” The elevator doors opened, and they dropped the conversation as they stepped out. The conversation that the rest of the group was having didn’t even pause as they walked towards the couches. Miranda didn’t listen in, and settled on the edge of the couch with Ben resting on her knee. She bounced him gently, and he giggled. The small movement was enough to distract them both. 

“Clint, um, where should I go to feed him? I think he’ll be hungry soon,” she whispered, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Clint, however, didn’t have the same amount of discretion. 

“Oh, right. Tony,” Clint said, getting his attention. “Where’s the baby stuff?”

“On their floor. Two down from here,” Tony replied before turning back to his conversation with Bruce. They seemed to be discussing something they had found in one of the Hydra files. 

“Floor?” Miranda choked, her eyes wide. 

“Tony gave everyone their own floor here,” Clint said, rising. He offered Miranda his hand to help her up. 

“But why do I have one?” she asked, taking Clint’s hand and standing. 

“Because we can’t trust SHIELD to provide a safe house,” Natasha explained. “So Tony decided that you would stay here until Clint and I can set up a safe house for you, off record.” Miranda nodded numbly.  _ A whole floor? For an adult and a baby? _ “You’ll get used to it,” Natasha shrugged. 

“Come on,” Clint said, waving her forward. “I’ll walk you home.” Miranda grinned and laughed. 

“Don’t we have to go on a date first?” she teased. 

“Aw, I knew I forgot something.” The pair walked towards the elevator, but Natasha tapped Clint on the shoulder. They exchanged a glance and Clint shrugged before going to sit back down. Natasha and Miranda stepped into the elevator. 

“I guess this means you want to talk,” Miranda observed as Natasha pressed the button for the Douglases’ floor. 

“I do,” Natasha replied. Miranda shifted, nervous. “You knew the Winter Soldier was Barnes, but you didn’t say anything. Why?”

“I wasn’t sure how to break the news.” Natasha raised an eyebrow. “It’s not like they make a Hallmark card for ‘your best friend isn’t dead but now he’s an assassin, my deepest condolences’. And I didn’t want to give him false hope,” she admitted. 

“False hope,” Natasha repeated. 

“Until I saw him in that lab, I wasn’t sure if he was still alive. I-- I don’t know which of us I was trying to protect, but I regret it, okay? I should’ve said something. Lord knows I’d do anything to have my best friend back.” The elevator doors opened and Natasha followed Miranda off. Apparently their conversation wasn’t over. 

“What happened to your friend?”

“Are you interrogating me? I feel like I’m being interrogated.” 

“Just answer my question.”

“He died when we were in high school,” Miranda stated, a rehearsed line. She made a beeline for the playpen set up in the living room (which was huge and had an  _ amazing  _ view) and set Ben down. She shook her arms to relax them. “I feel partially responsible, and I’m sure I’m projecting my feelings or whatever, but I know what it’s like to lose a close friend. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.” She paused. “Okay, maybe I would,” she admitted, mostly to herself. 

“What was his name?”

“Raoul Crevecoeur. You can look it up, there was an article about it in the paper. Whole county was talking about it for months.”

“Small town scandal?”

“Something like that. Why am I telling you? You’re just gonna go look it up later.”

“I like to hear from the source. My research will then corroborate or debunk your story.”

“And you want to know because…?”

“Steve is my friend, and he’s hurting. Understanding your motive is a step towards helping him.” Miranda chewed her lip. 

“Fine, but we might as well sit down then. I’d offer you something to drink, but I have no idea where anything is.” Natasha almost smiled. She took an armchair, and Miranda sat on the loveseat across from her, tucking her feet up. 

“So what happened?”

“We were sophomores, and Raoul had just come out as gay a few weeks before we went to this Halloween party. There was booze, of course, but neither of us drank much. He prefered soda, and I prefered a clear head. He was nervous, ‘cause he went in drag, but I didn’t think anything was gonna happen. And if anything did, well, I’d protect him. I went to go refill our drinks, and when I came back, three of the football jocks were pushing him around. They mocked him, and one of them pushed Raoul to the ground. They started kicking him. I stepped in, and got a punch to the jaw that dislocated it and sent me flying into an end table. I guess someone else intervened, ‘cause I woke up in the hospital. Raoul didn’t get so lucky.”

“So it was a hate crime?”

“I said so, and still do, but that’s not what the sheriff or county judge called it,” Miranda said bitterly. “Those assholes hardly got more than a slap on the wrist. I felt… powerless, I guess. I couldn’t protect him, and then I couldn’t even get justice for him. I guess I just thought Steve felt the same. It’s unresolved business.”

“That it is,” Natasha mused. “I think you’re right though; Steve probably feels the same. I’m still not happy that you withheld important information, even if your heart was in the right place.”

“I don’t mind. I’d be upset, too, if someone pulled shit like this on one of my friends. Understanding, but, yeah, upset. Is Steve alright though? Please don’t tell me I broke Captain America.”

“He’ll be alright. He’s not going to stop until he finds Barnes, but I think he’ll be alright.” Miranda nodded, sighing in relief. It was quiet for a moment before Ben began to fuss, and Natasha excused herself, leaving Miranda alone to deal with Ben and explore her new home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided two things:  
> 1) I'm gonna keep writing, just so I can get this story out of my head.  
> 2) When everything is said and done, I'm going to go back and do a massive edit/rewrite on this. 
> 
> Until then, feedback is greatly appreciated! (Feel free to point out my mistakes!)


	18. Friends & Family

Ben babbled happily on the blanket Miranda had laid out on the mat in the gym. She kept an eye on him, but was mostly focused on the bag swinging gently in front of her.  _ Thump thump. Thump thump.  _

“You have good form. Did you box?” She heard Natasha ask. She stilled the punching bag before turning around. 

“Yeah, years ago. But my muscle memory is still good,” she replied. Natasha pushed off the wall with her leg that had been propped up. “How long were you there? I didn’t hear you come in.”

“A few minutes. I thought you could sense people.” The way she said it made it seem like a challenge. 

“I can, I just choose not to. I only did all the time before because... “ She shook her head. “I’m not sure actually,” she laughed ruefully. “I think I was scared and thought it would help keep me safe.”

“You still don’t trust your memories,” Natasha observed. 

“No, I don’t,” Miranda responded, even though she knew it wasn’t a question. She stooped to pick up her water bottle and took a drink. She missed Natasha sizing her up. 

“When’s the last time you had an opponent?”

“For boxing?” She sighed, thinking. “I think I was fourteen. Well, if you count bare-knuckle, that is.” Natasha raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t exactly supervised,” she explained, grinning. 

“A fight club?” Natasha asked skeptically. 

“Oh, no,” Miranda laughed. “One of the boys in my class was being a jerk. Things came to a head, and somebody had to knock some sense into him. I didn’t have my gloves, therefore, bare-knuckle.” Natasha nodded, filing the information away. “I take it you want to box,” Miranda said lightly, crouching to wipe drool off Ben’s chin. “We’d have to find someone to watch this little guy while we fight,” she continued, rising back up to her full height. 

“I got it!” Clint shouted from-- where was he? Miranda looked around the gym and couldn’t find him. She relaxed a bit and reached out mentally. She found him just as Natasha chuckled, and called out,

“Get out of the air duct, Clint!” 

“Aw, you’re no fun.” A moment later one of the vents swung open and Clint dropped down, landing gracefully on his feet. Based off his grin, that usually didn’t happen. 

“I’m gonna have to always be aware,” Miranda said, shaking her head fondly, “otherwise I’m never gonna have privacy.” 

“I snuck up on her,” Natasha told Clint when he looked confused. He nodded, making an understanding noise. 

“She does that a lot,” Clint commented, settling down on the mat next to Ben. “To everyone, but mostly me.”

“And he seems to be in the vents a lot.”

“It’s easier to avoid and scare people that way. You have a nice right hook, by the way,” he told Miranda. “Vents,” he explained, pointing at one that would have given him a nice view of Miranda and the punching bag. Miranda frowned as she glanced between that vent and the one Clint had popped out of. 

“How? I should have been able to hear you.”

“We’re not known as SHIELD’s best for nothin’,” Clint grinned. “Now, come on, I wanna see you kick Nat’s ass.”

“I highly doubt that will happen,” Miranda laughed, following Natasha until they were a few paces away. “Don’t you want to wrap your hands?” she asked as they got into position across from each other. 

“I don’t need to,” Natasha replied. Her smirk made Miranda a bit nervous. Not enough to back down, but enough to question the choices she’d made to lead her to this point in her life. 

They went back and forth for a while, ducking and side-stepping and punching, throwing in a few hooks and upper- and overcuts for good measure. They seemed to be pretty evenly matched, which Miranda knew meant Natasha was holding back. Probably a lot, but she wasn’t offended. It was nice to have someone to box with regardless. 

“Aw, Ben, no,” Clint groaned. The women paused and looked over at them. Ben had spit up and was getting upset about it. 

“Rain check?” Miranda asked as she stepped away. Natasha nodded. “Spit rag is there, Clint,” she said pointing at where it lay in the blanket. Clint wiped Ben’s chin as Miranda rifled through the diaper bag for a clean onesie. When she found it she gently laid Ben down on his back and changed him. She glanced up and saw that the two assassins were having a conversation in sign. Natasha seemed to be arguing against something, but gave in by the time Ben was redressed. 

“What are your plans for Christmas?” Clint asked. Miranda blinked, caught slightly off guard by the question. 

“I don’t have any,” she replied. “I hadn’t even thought about it, to be honest.”

“Do you want to spend it with us?” Miranda assumed he meant his family. 

“I don’t want to intrude on a family holiday.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Clint assured her. “‘Sides, you’re practically family.”

“He’s pseudo-adopted you,” Natasha said, crossing her arms. 

“Nat, I pseudo-adopted you, too,” Clint retorted. 

“Is it because of the cookies last week?” Miranda asked teasingly, hiding the budding emotions swelling in her chest. 

“They just sealed the deal, kid.”

“He made his decision when he met you. He apparently has a habit of adopting strays,” Natasha said, the corners of her lips quirking upwards. 

“So, kid, whaddya say? Comin’ home for Christmas?”

“Sure. I’ll bring cookies,” she added with a wink. 

*****

The communal floor was unusually quiet. Normally there was music playing from the speakers, the genre varying almost daily, and soft conversation, and depending on the hour, the soft clink and motion of a meal being prepared. Miranda’s footsteps were quiet on the bare wood of the hallway as she wandered towards the conference room, just to see if maybe the Avengers were in a briefing. 

The conference room was empty, the curtains only half down and lights off. They flickered on when Miranda opened the door. She hadn’t actually ever looked around the room, only passed by, and would have closed the door and left if she hadn’t noticed the frames hanging on one of the walls. 

The higher one was a portrait with a tiny brass plaque attached to the bottom of the frame that read “Agent Phil Coulson” and the frame below it was a row of blood-stained Captain America trading cards pressed between the two plates of glass. 

Miranda leaned against the conference table, chewing her bottom lip. She wasn’t sure how long she had been standing there, but her trance was broken by the door opening. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were in here,” Steve apologised. 

“It’s alright, Steve. I was just--” She gestured over her shoulder to the wall. “It’s a memorial, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, for Agent Coulson,” Steve confirmed, stepping fully into the conference room. 

“I gathered that,” Miranda said with a small smile. “Do you mind if I ask why?”

“He was… Loki killed him before the Battle of Manhattan. It was what unified us as a team.” Miranda nodded. 

“These were his cards. He probably asked you to sign them, huh?”

“He did,” Steve replied. “Did you know him?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I knew him,” she said, turning back to look at the frames. “He’s my uncle, on my mom’s side. Kinda his fault I got into history, especially World War II.” 

“I’m sorry we didn’t say anything. We didn’t know he had family.”

“It’s fine. I s’pose that makes us even though, huh? I didn’t tell you about Bucky, you didn’t tell me about this.” Her voice sounded a lot tighter than she had hoped. The silence between them grew until Steve broke it. 

“Nat told me about your friend, Raoul.” 

“I figured she would. Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” 

“I haven’t been--”

“I’m teasing, Steve. But you really have been.”

“No, that’s not why.” He paused. “What do remember from Belgium?”

“Oh,” she whispered. “You mean what memories of Bucky’s do I have,” she realised. She took a deep breath. “There was a sign, said ‘Azzano.’ We-- er, Bucky and the others-- were captured, taken to a facility, and kept in cylindrical cells. Sometimes guys would be taken away, and we could hear them scream…” Her grip on the back of one of the chairs tightened until her knuckles were white. “They never came back. Then they took me-- Bucky,” she corrected herself again, shaking her head. “It was… painful. But then you were there, both times,” she finished, looking up at Steve. “There were flashes of other things: smokey bars, a red dress, a skinny punk.” She shook her head. “Sorry, it just feels like the memories are mine, even though I know they aren’t.” 

“But he remembered all that?” Miranda didn’t miss the way Steve’s jaw clenched, or how his eyes had a glimmer of hope in them.

“Yeah, and then some, I think. At least, he did before, when we were at Versailles. He’s probably remembering more now, since he’s seen you. Most of his memories were about you anyway,” Miranda told him, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “I’m surprised he didn’t get stress ulcers or something, chasing you around.” 

“What did he tell you?” Steve asked.

“Only the good things,” she replied, the smirk growing. Steve smiled, nodding. 

“Sounds like him.” 

“ _ Pardon the interruption, but Ben was awoken from his nap, Miss Douglas,”  _ Jarvis informed them. 

“We’ll swap stories some other time then,” Miranda told Steve, gently patting his shoulder as she left the room. She paused in the doorway, half turning back to face him. “Maybe over a drink sometime?” she asked. “Just as friends,” she added in a rush.

“Sure,” Steve agreed. “Friday night?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Miranda smiled before heading down the hall. Natasha replaced her in the doorway a moment later. 

“Don’t start, Nat.” 

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” she said, feigning innocence. Steve raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, really?” She smirked. “So you didn’t have anything to do with it?”

“I wish, but no. I didn’t mention anything to her. I didn’t realize that you prefered to be asked out. If I’d known I would have gone about this differently.”

“It’s not a date, Nat.”

“What’s not a date?” asked Tony, pausing in the hall outside the door. 

“Steve and Miranda are going out for drinks on Friday,” Natasha told him. 

“ _ That _ is a date, Capsicle,” Tony said as he continued down the hall. 

“It’s not a date!” Steve said, a bit exasberated. “We’re going as just friends.” Natasha’s eyes scanned his face, her smirk never fading. 

“Whatever you say, Steve.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really not a date, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity for Natasha to tease Steve about it. 
> 
> Tell me your thoughts! I'd love to hear from you!


	19. (It's Not) Date Night

“Do you have a sitter for tonight yet?” Natasha asked as Miranda unwrapped her hands. The pair had taken to boxing and otherwise training together, and it was working out well so far. 

“Are you volunteering?” Miranda retorted. 

“I could,” Natasha shrugged. “Wouldn’t want you to have to cancel date night.”

“It’s not a date, Natasha,” Miranda groaned. “It’s just drinks and story swapping.” 

“Doesn’t that make it a date?”

“No.”

“It’s a typical date in movies.”

“It’s not a date.” Miranda shoved her wraps into the diaper bag before strapping Ben into the carrier. “We’re just friends going out for drinks.” She started picking up Ben’s toys. Natasha knelt next to her to help. 

“Well, you’re both in agreement there. But, it’s a date if he pays.”

“That’s not fair, you know he will.”

“Then it’s a date,” Natasha smirked, rising so Miranda could fold the blanket. 

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” Miranda asked as she irritably folded the blanket. Natasha shrugged noncommittally. 

“I’ve been trying to get Steve to go out on a date for months; I see this as progress.”

“Don’t take credit for this. You had no part in it, for one; and for two,  _ it’s not a date _ ,” Miranda stressed as she slung the diaper bag over her shoulder. She went to pick up Ben in his carrier, but Natasha had already done so. She said nothing, and strode towards the elevator. Natasha kept pace. 

“When are you planning on leaving?”

“Seven. We might get a late dinner. Depends on where we end up going.” 

“I know a nice place. I could get you a reservation.”

“I’m sure you could, but I was thinking something more along the lines of a regular bar and grill. I’ll talk to Steve and we’ll figure it out before we head out.” She pressed the button to call the elevator. “Because that’s how you plan for a night out with a  _ friend _ .”

Natasha didn’t respond, and they waited for the elevator in silence. The silence remained once the elevator arrived, and was only broken momentarily by Jarvis. 

“ _ Agent Romanov, Agent Barton has requested that you meet him on his floor. _ ”

“Thank you, Jarvis. Tell him I’m on my way.” 

“ _ Of course, Agent Romanov _ .”

Moments later the doors opened for Miranda’s floor. She took Ben from Natasha and stepped off, the doors closing behind her and taking Natasha away to talk to Clint. 

*****

Steve answered his phone after the third ring-- thank goodness for simple, traditional ringtones. 

“Hello?”

“ _ Hey, Cap,”  _ responded Sam on the other end. “ _ I heard you have plans tonight. _ ”

“Nat told you about that, huh,” Steve sighed. 

“ _ Yeah, she did. She called the other day to tell me. _ ”

“And is that why you’re calling now?”

“ _ Well, yes and no. I’m calling to give you a progress report, which is the same as last time-- nothing-- and to check in with you about tonight. I know it’s your first date in a long time. _ ” Steve dragged his hand across his face. 

“Nat must have forgotten to mention the part where it’s not a date.”

“ _ If you say so, Cap. Natasha didn’t tell me a whole lot about this girl, but she seemed to like her okay. I take that as a good sign. _ ”

“You do that.”

“ _ So where are you taking her? Wait, sorry-- where are you two going? _ ” Steve could practically hear his friend’s smirk.

“All we decided on was drinks, and we’ll leave around seven.”

_ “You know chatting over drinks is a classic date, right? _ ”

“Sam,” Steve groaned, exasperated. 

“ _ Right, right, it’s not a date. Just be careful, alright? _ ”

“I will, Sam. It’s drinks, not a raid.”

“ _ Okay. I still expect to hear how it went, though. _ ”

“I’ll call to tell you tomorrow then. Goodbye, Sam.”

“ _ Looking forward to it. Bye, Steve. _ ” The call ended, and Steve shook his head. What had he done to deserve friends like these?

*****

“That’s really not helpful,” Miranda responded, pinching her phone between her shoulder and ear as she dug through the closet. 

“ _ Well, I can’t actually see you, so, _ ” Darcy retorted. “ _ And it’s hard to dress appropriately if you don’t know where you’re going. So it really does come down to how much skin you’re willing to show. _ ”

“Oh, it’s skin now? A minute ago it was clevage.”

“ _ Eh, same thing. _ ”

“Are you like this with Jane when she goes out?”

“ _If she ever asked for my help, probably._ _She doesn’t go out much anyway, and now we can’t. Stupid SHIELD lockdown_ ,” Darcy grumbled. 

“It’s for your safety, Darcy. You know what happened to me, don’t you?” Miranda decided on a ruby knit cardigan over a white t-shirt and pulled them both out of the closet. 

“ _ Okay, that’s fair _ ,” she huffed. Miranda chuckled as she tossed the shirts onto the bed next to the distressed dark wash jeans she’d already grabbed. 

“So I take it you’re going a bit stir crazy.”

“ _ Cabin fever to the extreme, my friend. Jane’s got her research, but I’ve got nothing. The wifi’s glitchy. It keeps cutting out _ ,” Darcy pouted. 

“Are you sure it’s not Jane’s research that’s messing with the wifi?”

“ _ Since she’s not using any sciencey do-hickeys yet, I’m pretty sure that’s not it. Which means it’s something else. _ ”

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” Miranda grinned. 

“ _ Says the girl who’s safe house is Stark Tower _ .”

“It’s only temporary. Look, I’ve got to hang up now so I can get ready. Bye, Darcy.”

“ _ Call me after! I want to hear everything! Go get ‘em!” _ Miranda hung up a moment later, smiling and shaking her head.

A few minutes, a change of clothes, and a quick comb-through of her hair later, she was waiting in the living room for the sitter. 

_ Sitters _ , apparently, since both Clint and Natasha stepped off the elevator. 

“Have fun,” Natasha said after Miranda had quickly gone over the few instructions she had. 

“But not too much,” Clint added, acting like a stern father. Miranda laughed as she headed towards the elevator. 

“Okay,  _ Dad _ ,” she called over her shoulder. 

She pressed the button to take her up to the communal floor, where she and Steve had agreed to meet. 

*****

The pub wasn't terribly crowded, but it was noisy enough that their booth seemed private. Their meal had been cleared away over an hour ago, but the conversation was still flowing easily.

“Wait,  _ how _ old were you?”

“Six,” Steve responded, hanging his head. 

“Oh my god, you didn’t,” Miranda laughed. “There is no way you did that.”

“I did though,” Steve said, looking back up from the table. 

“Damn, I wish I had been there to see that. With a video camera,” she chuckled, wiping her eyes. 

“Alright, your turn to share an embarassing story.” 

“Ugh, it’s more fun to laugh at you.”

“What, I don’t get the chance to laugh at you?” She narrowed her eyes, but relented. 

“Fine. Let me think,” she said slowly, taking another sip of her drink. “When I was eight, I almost impaled the deputy sheriff with a lawn dart.”

“What?” Steve gasped.

“No, really, I did,” she laughed. “We had a bunch of people over for a barbeque for the Fourth, and one of the neighbors had metal-tipped lawn darts, okay? And my friends and I grabbed it and set it up, and started to play. So we get to my turn, right, and just as I release the dart, he starts walking across where we’re playing, and I’m just watching in horror as this lawn-dart comes down in this perfect arc, and my friends are shouting at the deputy--” She paused, taking another sip-- “and he just  _ stops _ .”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yeah. And the dart lands  _ right next to his foot. _ Like it was this close,” she said, showing him with her hands on the table, pressing the edges of her hands together. “There was a scrape on his shoe,” she finished. 

“I think that’s worse than anything I did as a kid.”

“Oh, no, no, no. Almost getting into a fight at  _ Sunday School _ is worse.”

“And nearly setting an Advent wreath on fire isn’t?” Steve retorted smugly, sipping his beer.

“Okay, you win this round,” Miranda conceded, narrowing her eyes. “Okay, so I was the more reckless kid, but there is no way I was the more reckless teenager.”

“I’m not even gonna argue with that,” Steve laughed. 

“You better not,” she grinned. “Bucky told me about  _ a lot _ of the shit you did as a teenager. And  _ I  _ know what  _ I  _ did as a teenager, so you were  _ definitely  _ the more reckless teenager.”

“Okay, now that sounds like a challenge. You’re gonna have to prove that now.”

“Ugh, no,” Miranda groaned, her head crashing to the table. “I’m gonna lose and I’m not even gonna be drunk when I doooooooo.” 

“You can’t get drunk either?”

“Apparently,” she sighed, sitting up. “This is the first time I’ve tried in a long while, and I should be well on my way to getting drunk by now after two drinks.”

“It’s a side effect of the serum,” Steve sympathised. 

“Well, can’t say I’m disappointed. Last time I got drunk, I made an idiot of myself,” she said, stirring her drink, and the ice cubes shifted, clinking against the glass. 

“Oh, really?” Steve grinned. Miranda looked up at him, taking in the devilish glint in his eye.

“Oooh no. No.”

“Come on, what did you do? It can’t be that bad.”

“Bad, no. Embarrassing, very,” she said, leaning back and blushing. She buried her face in her hands. “The more I think about it, the worse it iiiiiiiiis,” she groaned, the words muffled. 

“Come on, we’re sharing embarrassing stories, I’m not gonna laugh that much.”

“You’re horrible, Rogers,” she said, removing her hands from her face. 

“You share, I share,” he grinned, taking another sip of his beer. 

“I’m too sober for this,” she muttered, downing the rest of her drink. “Unfortunately, that won’t change. I’m gonna miss that; having an excuse for embarrassing shit.”

“You’re stalling,” Steve teased. 

“I was going for a subtle change of topic, actually.”

“Very subtle.”

“You’re the tactician, Cap, you should know all about subtle.”

“The way you say that makes me think--”

“That Bucky shared some war stories? Yeah. Y’know saluting your sniper is a good way to get him shot at, right?” 

“It was one time,” Steve groaned. 

“Yeah, and you’re lucky he didn’t get shot.” 

“Please tell me he didn’t share any other war stories.”

“Oh, he shared plenty.” The waitress came by their booth then. 

“Refills?” she asked. 

“Sure,” Miranda said, handing the waitress her empty glass. 

“And you, sir?”

“Uh, not just yet, thanks.”

“Alright. I’ll be right back with another Big Appletini.”

“So, that embarrassing drunk story,” Steve began as soon as she was out of earshot. “You were about to share that.”

“I really wasn’t, but nice try.”

“Damn, I thought that would work,” he grinned, finishing his beer. “You sure you’re not gonna share?”

“I’d rather embarrass myself on national television.” The waitress came back with Miranda’s drink, and Steve declined a refill, opting for a glass of water instead. 

“National television? Really?”

“Oh, let a girl be dramatic.” Miranda’s phone chirped and she looked at the screen. “It’s Natasha,” she told Steve as she unlocked the screen to respond. 

          NATASHA: How late are you two gonna be? Clint passed out on your couch.

Her phone chirped again. 

          NATASHA: <image>

She opened the image. It was a picture of Clint asleep on her couch with Ben curled up on his chest. She smiled, and turned her phone so Steve could see. 

“I think we should head back,” she laughed. “One of my sitters is down for the count.”

“What time is it anyway?” Miranda looked at the digital clock on her phone. 

“Almost midnight, wow.” 

“Then yeah, I think we should head in.” Steve got the waitress’s attention as Miranda texted Natasha back.

           ME: We’re getting the check now. Should be back soon.

           NATASHA: No rush :)

Miranda shook her head, smiling, and looked up as Steve was paying the bill. She felt her ears turn red. 

“Oh, I can get it,” she offered. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he said, handing it to the waitress. She went off to ring it up. 

“Steve, you just opened us up to so much teasing.”

“What?” Miranda marveled for a moment at how innocent he seemed in this moment.

“Steve, you just paid for our food.” He blinked, confused for a moment. Miranda could pinpoint the moment it clicked for him. 

“Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that they ended up going to The Irish Pub on 7th Street in Manhattan, in case you're curious. 
> 
> And no, they're not gonna catch _any _breaks. I like to think it's funnier that way.__
> 
> __I'd love to hear what you guys think!_ _


	20. Eggs, Nightmares, & Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second scene in this chapter (between the first and second set of asterisks) contains emotionally manipulative language. If this is unsettling, triggering, or otherwise makes you uncomfortable, please skip it. All you need to know is that Miranda had a nightmare, and is subsequently very shaken.   
> In other news, chapter titles are hard.

When they got back to the tower, Miranda insisted that they go to Steve’s floor first, (“They’re never gonna let this go if you walk me to my door, Steve. You can be a gentleman later.”) and proceeded to head to her own floor alone. Natasha was curled up in an armchair, and the boys were the same as they had been in the picture Natasha had sent. 

“Thank you for watching him,” Miranda whispered, gently picking Ben up off Clint’s chest. 

“You’re welcome. I was more watching Clint, though,” Natasha replied in a whisper. 

“I’m sure.” Miranda gave her a small smile as she settled Ben’s weight against her shoulder. “I’m going to put Ben in his crib. You can wake Clint, but he’s welcome to stay where he is.”

“He’ll complain about his neck hurting. I’ll wake him.”

“So he complains about being awake?” 

“More like grumble. Night, Miranda. Night, Ben.”

“Night, Natasha,” Miranda whispered over her shoulder as she walked down the hall to Ben’s room, bouncing him gently to keep him asleep. 

She heard them leave quietly as she laid Ben in his crib, the sound of the elevator doors being almost the only thing that gave them away (Clint stumbled when they got to the two steps for the raised platform that lead to the elevator). She sighed in relief when she heard the elevator close and begin its descent. No pestering from Natasha for a few more hours was a very welcome thing. 

Miranda quietly closed the door behind her as she left Ben’s room, and grabbed pajamas from her room before jumping in the shower. A few minutes later she stepped out into the slightly steaming bathroom, toweled off and pulled on her pjs before crawling into bed. Hopefully she’d get lucky and get a good night of sleep. 

*****

The room was familiar, but the sight of the high windows set shivers down her spine, and the curtains of the canopy on the bed made her stomach turn to lead. She heard the rustle of sheets behind her, and the gentle pressure of a hand on her arm to roll her onto her back from her side. 

“Good morning,” he grinned. She lay there, frozen in terror. He sighed, the grin disappearing. “You really thought that was real, didn’t you? I’m disappointed, I thought you could see through my illusions by now.” Her throat was tightening and tears began to blur her vision. “Did you really think the good Captain would be friends with you? You’re mine, Miranda,” he growled possessively, his fingers brushing over the brand on her forearm. “And you always will be.”

“No,” she whispered. He sighed again. 

“Right, you wish to share the soldier’s bed. But again, my lady, you are mine, no one else can have you. I doubt he returns your affections anyway. Only I love you.”

“You’re dead,” she choked out. “You’re dead, and you can’t touch me anymore, you’re dead, you’re dead, you’re--”

“Am I?” he purred. “I certainly don’t feel dead. Do I look it?” he asked, gesturing to his body. She refused to look, but she was unable to tear her eyes away from his face regardless. “Come now, can’t you tell that this is what’s real?”

“Let me go,” she begged.

“You are mine, understand?” he growled, gripping her arm tight enough to bruise over the brand. “You belong to me.”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. Her tears began to flow freely. “You’re dead, this isn’t real. This isn’t real,” she repeated, over and over, louder and louder until she was screaming in his face. He remained unnervingly calm. 

*****

She woke with a start, sitting up and curling in on herself. Her heart was hammering in her chest, threatening to break through her ribs. But the here, the now, this was real. Right?

“ _ Miss Douglas, are you alright? _ ” Jarvis asked, concerned. _ “Your heart rate is elevated. _ ”

“I’m not sure, Jarvis,” she answered, her voice shaky. “What time is it?”

“ _ It is 5:43 am, Miss Douglas _ .” She took a deep breath. It was pointless to try and fall back asleep-- not that she thought she could anyway. 

“Is anyone else awake?” she asked, slipping out from between the sheets. 

“ _ Mr. Stark is currently in his lab, and Captain Rogers is preparing to go for a run _ ,” Jarvis informed her. “ _ Everyone else is still asleep for the time being. Would you like me to rouse someone?” _

“No, no that won’t be necessary. Thank you though,” she replied, quickly making the bed. She changed into clean clothes for the day-- a loose t-shirt and jeans-- before walking down the hall to check on Ben. He was still asleep. Miranda lingered a moment, watching his peaceful rest. 

She made her way to the communal kitchen, baby monitor shoved in her back pocket. She started two pots of coffee right away, then searched for the ingredients to make a scrambler after checking that there were enough eggs to do so. Her hands were still shaking when she began cracking eggs into a bowl. 

She rested her elbows on the counter, palms pressed against her eyes as she took several deep breaths. After a few minutes, her hands were steady enough to finish cracking the eggs. Once the eggs were scrambled with a little bit of salt, pepper, and water, she put crumbled bacon and hash browns into the biggest skillet in the kitchen. She let them warm up and brown for a few minutes before dumping the eggs in. 

Cooking was the best therapy she had found short of going to an actual therapist (which she knew she should probably do at some point in the very near future). Cooking reminded her that she was human, and it grounded her to reality. She’d made several batches of cookies, a few cakes, and several meals. About a week prior she had spent the day making lasagna after a nightmare, and there were now six sitting in the freezer for future consumption (the other two had been polished off at dinner that day). The freezer also held spaghetti sauce, apple pie filling, zucchini and banana breads, and brownies. 

She didn’t always make three meals a day-- there just wasn’t time, really-- but she usually made either breakfast, dinner, or both. As far as coping mechanisms went, she thought hers was pretty productive. (And better and healthier than ordering in all the time.)

“Jarvis, if anybody’s up tell ‘em I’m making breakfast and there’s coffee,” she said, stirring the eggs in the skillet. 

“ _ Of course, Miss Douglas. _ ”

“Thanks,” she replied, moving the skillet off the heat. She glanced at the stove clock, the glowing digital numbers reading out 6:57 am. Clint was probably the only one who wasn’t going to be up for another hour or so. Everyone else either was or would be shortly. 

Miranda was still surprised when Tony waltzed-- well, more like stumbled-- into the kitchen. She wasn’t surprised that he made a beeline for the coffee machine, he looked like he needed it, but he usually didn’t leave his lab. 

“Morning,” she said lightly, grabbing a stack of plates from one of the cabinets. She got a halfhearted wave in reply. “I didn’t think you’d leave the lab, I thought I was gonna have to bring you a plate.”

“Yeah, well, Jarvis temporarily locked me out, so,” Tony replied, blowing on his coffee to cool it. Miranda chuckled as she counted out forks for everyone. “You cook a lot.”

“What can I say, it’s my coping mechanism. You tinker, I cook,” she shrugged. “Everyone has their own way of dealing with things.” She poured herself a cup of coffee, leaving room for plenty of milk. 

“I’ll make upgrades to the kitchen then.” She looked up at him from stirring sugar into her coffee quizzically. 

“Why?”

“If you’re going to use it a lot, you should have a nice workspace,” Tony replied, like it was obvious. 

“No offense, but why do you keep doing things for me? I can’t repay you, and a few months ago you didn’t even trust me.”

“Does it matter? Maybe I just like your cooking.” Miranda narrowed her eyes, but turned back to her coffee, taking a sip before adding a little more sugar.

“Well, you can dish up then, since you like my cooking so much,” she teased. A moment later she groaned as noise came through the baby monitor. “Ben’s awake,” she commented, grabbing the monitor off the counter and heading towards the elevator. 

*****

Everyone trickled into the kitchen over the next hour and a half. Steve and Bruce were in the kitchen when Miranda came back with Ben, and Natasha appeared as Miranda was securing Ben in his high chair. 

“Ooo, you and Steve look pretty tired,” she smirked. Miranda scoffed. 

“Lack of sleep will do that to you.” She blinked, then added, cheeks flushing, “Wait, no-- that’s not-- goddamn it,” she sighed. Natasha’s smirk remained. “Steve just ran an ungodly amount of miles, and I didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

“That’s all?”

“Nat, stop interrogating her,” Steve interrupted, a teasing, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “She didn’t even let me walk her to her door.” Everyone else’s ears in the room perked up. 

“So it was a date?” Bruce questioned. 

“I swear to god,” Miranda muttered under her breath. 

“Damn, now I owe Nat fifty bucks,” grumbled Tony. Natasha leaned against the counter with a self-satisfied smirk. Miranda resisted the urge to bash her head against the wall, and Steve had the decency to look embarrassed. 

Clint choose that moment to stumble into the kitchen, still half-asleep. 

“Ooo, coffee,” he cooed, grabbing the fuller of the two pots and drinking straight from it. “Am I interrupting something?”

Miranda and Steve chimed “No” as the others said “Yes”. Clint looked around at each of them and shrugged. It was too early for this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the awkward sitcom-ness at the end makes up for the creepy skin-crawling feeling the nightmare may have left you with (I felt weird when I was writing it).   
> I'm not entirely sure how to tag this story for warnings beyond PTSD, which I will be adding, so if you have any recommendations or suggestions, I'd love to hear them.   
> I plan on wrapping this story up after I write Christmas, or perhaps New Year's. We'll see which it ends up being. Part 3 of this series will be... considerably happier, I think. Events from CA:WS might happen, AOU will happen, and certain pieces of Civil War will happen, but in the end it will be happy. The road to happiness, however, is neither straight nor smooth.   
> Thanks for reading!


	21. Getting Better?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's _August _and I'm trying to write about _Christmas _. I have failed in that regard, because I was planning on this chapter being Christmas at the Bartons', but it's not. Not even a little bit.____

The radio was tuned into a Christmas station, the cheery music filling the kitchen over the sound of the whirring mixer. Miranda sang along happily as she stacked the mostly cooled sugar cookies in a container with wax paper between the layers. Every few moments she’s glance at either the mixer or Ben. Ben was chewing on teething ring in his high chair, squirming to his own little beat in a way that almost looked like dancing. 

Miranda set the container off to the side as she turned the mixer off, and greased the cookie sheets before she began scooping out the dough. 

“If you want a cookie, you just have to ask,” she teased, looking over her shoulder at the doorway. “You’ve been hovering for awhile.”

“I got distracted, that’s all,” Steve retorted. 

“Mhm. So, what can I do for ya?” Miranda asked, throwing another glance over her shoulder. “I don’t bite.”

“I, uh, I just didn’t want to be alone, and everyone else is doing their own thing,” he explained lamely. Miranda stopped scooping cookie dough and turned around to point at one of the stools by the island. 

“Then sit. If you want coffee, there’s some in the pot,” she offered, pointing to it. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Miranda turned back to the other counter and finished scooping the cookie dough out. She slid the sheets into the oven and set the timer before refilling her own mug of coffee and leaning back against the counter. Steve was sketching and didn’t notice that she was watching him for a minute. 

“What?” Steve asked, looking up at her and closing his sketchbook.

“Nothing,” she said fondly. “It’s just good to see you… relaxed. It’s,” she sighed, “it’s familiar.” She shook her head. “Except for the part where you’re all beefy,” she said into her coffee. 

“Bucky’s memories?” Steve asked. Miranda nodded. 

“It’s weird, ‘cause I only know you like this,” she said, gesturing to his body, “but every once in awhile you do something and I can only see the little guy.” She paused. “Any luck finding him yet?” 

“No, not yet. Not that I know where to look to begin with.”

“Have you tried looking by places he’d blend in? He might not have gone somewhere he knew, but somewhere he wouldn’t stick out in a crowd.”

“Can try that angle.” There was a long pause, the stereo still singing softly in the background. 

“I miss him, too,” Miranda said softly, leaning across the counter to rest her hand on his. She gave a gentle squeeze and then retracted her hand and straightened. 

“I think there was flour on the counter,” Steve observed, pointing to the white powder that was all over the front of her sweater now. Miranda groaned, and began to brush it off, frowning. She succeeded in creating a white dust cloud, but didn’t have much luck getting the flour off her sweater. 

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“I wasn’t laughing!”

“You were going to.” Miranda scooped up some of the flour from the counter and rubbed it into Steve’s hair. “Whatcha gonna do about that, Captain?” she taunted. 

“I might,” Steve began, getting up and rounding the island, scooping up flour and sugar from the counter as he went, “do something like--”

“Oh, shit, you’re tall!” Miranda blurted.

“--this,” Steve finished, dumping the contents of his hand into her head. 

“That’s fair,” Miranda smiled. “But this means war.” 

The flour war that ensued was interrupted by the timer going off. 

“My cookies!” Miranda cried, ducking around Steve to grab her oven mitts and pull the cookies out to cool. “There,” she sighed, putting the cookies out to cool and turning off the oven. “Done,” she said proudly, looking at Ben who was giggling. “What’re you all smiley for, mister?” She froze when she felt a drop of water hit the top of her head. “Rogers, don’t you fucking dare.” 

“What?” Steve asked innocently. “Don’t do what?”

“If you dump water on my head, I swear to god--”

“ _ Pardon the interruption, but there is an urgent call for the Avengers. Captain Rogers, you are needed in the conference room _ ,” Jarvis interrupted. Miranda turned around to look at Steve (and sure enough, he was holding a cup of water). 

“Duty calls,” she supplied. 

“Yeah,” Steve replied. It was safe to say that they were both disappointed. 

“Go on, Captain, we’ll be here when you get back. You just gotta promise me one little thing.”

“What’s that?”

“That you come back,” she said, a bit more seriously than she had meant it to sound. 

“I can do that,” Steve assured her before taking his leave. 

“And don’t do anything stupid!” she called after him. She heard him laugh as the elevator doors closed. “He’s gonna do something stupid,” Miranda told Ben. He babbled in agreement.

*****

Urgent business. It was easily the most generic phrase in SHIELD’s lexicon, and as a result, the Avengers collectively were prepared for both something asinine and something horrendous. Today it seemed to fall towards the horrendous end of the spectrum. 

The conference room was quiet, the silent footage playing on a loop as they watched for details, for any clue that might help. It was Hydra, that was for sure, but beyond that, it was unclear. Hill paused the footage before it could repeat another time. 

“As far as we can tell, they are not willing participants,” she said. 

“And they are who exactly?” asked Bruce. 

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff,” Hill replied, pulling up what information SHEILD had found on the twins. “They’re from Sokovia, and are political activists against the corrupt regime there.” 

“Hydra experimented on them. Why? This information makes them seem like a threat to Hydra, not allies,” Clint pointed out. 

“Could be like with Douglas. Take someone against you, so that if the experiment doesn’t work, you’ve eliminated a threat,” Tony theorised, toying with a pen. “But, if it does work--”

“You’ve created an even bigger threat,” Steve finished. 

“Then you brainwash them, like with Barnes, or with Loki’s scepter,” Natasha concluded. “They’re a bigger threat, but you control them. They become a weapon.” 

“Until they remember they aren’t,” Clint added pointedly. 

“So what do we do? We know who they are, what they can do, but we don’t know where they are,” Bruce said. 

“Then we find out where they are,” Steve said firmly, “and we do the same thing we’ve done at every other Hydra base.”

*****

No one was getting much sleep that night, except for Ben, it seemed. Tony gave up on sleep around 2 in the morning after what little sleep he got was interrupted by a nightmare. He swung by the communal kitchen, just to see if there was still coffee, on his way down to his lab. 

“There’s still hot water in the kettle, if you want tea,” Miranda offered quietly from the barstool she was perched on. Tony jumped when she first spoke, but relaxed once he saw her in the low light. “Chamomile is supposed to help you sleep.” 

“I was just gonna have coffee. Go to the lab.”

“Tinker, yeah, I know. You need sleep at some point, though.”

“Why are you even awake?”

“Same reason you are: nightmare,” she replied, taking a sip of her tea. “You really should talk about it.”

“I’m not the touchy feely type, try Banner.”

“I’ll talk to him about his nightmare some other time,” Miranda stated. “Right now, it’s you I’m worried about. Tony, when I said I had the same reason to be awake, I meant it.”

“What, you’re spying on us in our dreams now?”

“No, not exactly. I… My dreams start off as my own, sometimes they stay that way. Sometimes, they turn into a nightmare, and my brain starts reaching out for help because, in my head, I need it, and in the process of reaching out to all of you, it kinda… steals your nightmares, I guess. I can usually tell whose it was since when it wakes me is when whoever’s it was wakes up,” she explained, staring at the counter for most of it. She took a sip of her tea. “I don’t know, really. Hydra really did a number on my brain, cause I can’t stop stealing your nightmares, believe me, I’ve tried. But I guess I can’t,” she shrugged. 

“We’ve started piecing together what they did to you,” Tony told her as he poured the last of the coffee from the previous morning into a mug. “Apparently, they’ve been interested in you since you were a kid. Some of the files they had on you go way back. Mostly surveillance. Why haven’t quite pinpointed  _ why _ they were so interested in you, but it’s something.”

“It is,” Miranda agreed. “But what about more recently? The serum and the mind games?”

“Seems like they’ve been developing a serum for a long time. Pretty much since Erskine’s experiment on Cap worked. From what I gather, they convinced Loki that their serum was the only way to save you, even though it had a better chance of killing you. So he let them pump it into your system.”

“But left out the part where it would turn me into a super soldier, minus the soldier part.”

“I think they were hoping it would kill you.”

“Hasn’t yet,” Miranda smirked. “But knowing that, we’re starting to answer some questions. We’ll be able to answer more if we get some sleep.”

“I’ll try later.”

“When you pass out?”

“Probably.” Miranda sighed and shook her head. 

“At least remember to eat something,” she asked, getting up and taking the remainder of her tea with her back to her floor. It really was helping, and everyone else seemed to be in a comparatively peaceful state of sleep now. Maybe she’d get some rest before Ben woke up… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of fluffy Christmas ridiculousness, my brain went "Let's introduce the Maximoffs and then start explaining what the hell happened to Miranda" and this is the result. BUT Christmas _is _coming soon (story-wise anyway).__  
>  So, I'm going with the comic-book canon that the Maximoffs are Jewish, and therefore would never work with Hydra willingly. It'll twist a few details from AoU, but that's kinda the point of an AU.  
> Thanks for all the kudos, peoples! It's encouraging to know that you're enjoying this.


	22. Christmas At the Bartons'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S CHRISTMAS!!!!

The screen door protested with a squeak when Clint opened it, but it opened nonetheless. Natasha went in ahead, opening the main door, and Clint held open the screen door until the Douglases and Natasha were inside. 

The living room wasn’t lavish, or elegant, or anything of the same thread-- it was raggedy, and worn, and cluttered. It was a home. Miranda hadn’t realised quite how homesick she was until it was staring her in the face. 

“Dad! Aunt Nat!” squealed two young children as they ran into the room. 

“Hey, bud,” Clint greeted, hugging the boy and rubbing his head. “Hi, sweetheart,” he continued, picking up the girl. “Miranda, this is Lila, and this is Cooper. Kids, this is Miranda. Her son is Ben.” 

“Hi,” Lila waved shyly. 

“Hello,” Cooper greeted. 

“It’s nice to meet you both,” Miranda smiled warmly. Her heart felt tight-- but in a good way. 

“You’re in early,” said a brunette woman, standing by Clint’s side after kissing his cheek. 

“We caught some tailwind. Miranda, this is my wife, Laura.”

“Thank you so much for opening your home,” Miranda said, offering her hand, which Laura shook. 

“Not a problem. The more the merrier, especially at Christmas.”

“I brought cookies, where should I put them?” Miranda asked, lifting the bag of cookie containers.

“Cooper can take them into the kitchen while I show you where you’ll be staying.” After Laura nudged his shoulder, Cooper took the bag from Miranda’s outstretched hand and disappeared around the corner. Laura gestured for Miranda to follow her down the hall to one of the guest rooms.  

*****

That first evening (and into the next morning) was awkward, but the kids quickly adjusted to the Douglases, accepting them as part of the family the same way Natasha was. Miranda and Laura quickly worked out an easy agreement to split the hassles of cooking and dishes, and started swapping recipes and tips. Miranda was immensely grateful to have another mother to talk to (and so was Laura, to some extent). 

 

“Cooper, put the cookie back,” Miranda said without looking up from the cutting board. 

“ _ Please _ , Aunt Andy? You make the best cookies.” 

“You’ll spoil your supper. Besides, if you eat them all now, there won’t be any left on Christmas.” She heard him huff, but he put the cookie back and scampered off to play with his sister. 

“Moms really do have eyes in the backs of their heads,” Natasha commented, leaning on the counter next to Miranda. “Though I suppose the psychic thing helps,” she smirked. 

“It does a bit, yeah,” Miranda laughed. “One of the perks, I guess.” 

“Okay, what’d I miss?” Laura asked as she stepped back into the kitchen. 

“Cooper tried to take a cookie, but Andy has super mom skills,” Natasha replied. 

“Already?” Laura laughed. “Ben won’t be able to get away with anything.”

“Here’s hoping,” Miranda grinned, crossing her fingers for a moment before going back to chopping carrots. “He gets mischief from both sides, so I’ve got to be vigilant.” She dumped the carrots into the soup kettle and but the cutting board and knife in the sink. “Speaking of which, he just woke up from his nap.” She left the kitchen, heading towards her room to check on Ben. 

“She’s a good kid,” Laura said after Miranda was out of earshot. “She reminds me of you, in a way.” Natasha raised an eyebrow. “She’s been through unimaginably horrible things and she’s still so young, and my husband went ahead and ‘adopted’ her like a stray puppy.” 

“One day he might  _ actually  _ bring home a stray puppy,” Natasha said pointedly. 

“If one of the kids don’t do it first,” Laura smiled. “But, back to my earlier point, she’s like you, but she’s not you. She doesn’t have any callouses.”

“What are you trying to say, Laura?”

“If it’s possible, put her in a safe house near here. She needs someone she can trust nearby.” Natasha nodded, a silent promise to do her best to do so. 

“In all fairness, I think you’ve adopted her, too.”

“I think you’re right,” Laura sighed, stirring the soup. “But I don’t regret adopting you, so how different will this be?”

*****

It was Christmas morning, and Miranda only knew it was morning because she could feel two excited children hovering outside her door. She rolled over to look at the time, and groaned, smiling. Christmas morning, bright and early-- 7:08 am. She flopped back onto her back, an arm slung over her eyes. She’d actually managed to get a full night’s sleep, and that was nice, and, well, excitement  _ is  _ contagious…

She opened the door, and the kids jumped, not expecting her to be awake. 

“Merry Christmas,” she grinned. 

“Merry Christmas!” they both whispered. 

“Are your parents up yet?”

“No,” Lila answered, staring at her feet. 

“Why were you waiting outside my door then?” They both were staring at their feet now, and Miranda bent down so that she was closer to their height. The two siblings exchanged a glance. 

“Santa ate your cookies,” Cooper giggled. 

“He did?” Miranda pretended to be surprised. “I thought he hated cookies!”

“No, silly, he loves them!”

“Did the reindeer eat the carrots?” They both nodded emphatically. “I don’t believe you.”

“No, they did!” 

“Mhm! They’re gone!” Lila confirmed. “Come see!” She grabbed Miranda’s hand and pulled her down the hall to the living room, and over to the fireplace, Cooper right behind them. “See?” she said, pointing at the empty plate that had held cookies and carrots only a few hours prior.  The glass of milk only had a tiny puddle at the bottom. 

“Well, I guess you were both good kids then, huh?” They nodded, giggling and smiling. 

“You were, too, Aunt Andy,” Lila said. “Look!” She scurried over to the fireplace were all the stockings had been hung, but there were two new additions that hadn’t been there last night. Lila lifted them both off their hooks and brought them back over to Miranda, who had sunk onto the couch. “This one’s yours,” she said, dropping the stocking into her lap, “and this one’s Ben’s,” she continued, dropping the other on top of the first. 

Miranda blinked rapidly as she ran a finger over the names on both stockings. A small smile lifted the corners of her lips. She pulled a folded flip of paper out of her stocking and opened it. It read, in a small, clean hand:

> _ Merry Christmas, and welcome to the family. _
> 
> _ \-- Laura, Clint, Lila, Cooper, & Nat _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's August irl, but I FINALLY fucking figured out how to do this Christmas chapter, and I hope you liked it, even though it's not super Christmas-y.   
> I'm also pretty sure it's a Barton family tradition to bring home strays.   
> Well, this part of the series is coming to a close, which means, if there's something that's bothering you, or you'd like to see happen/be revealed/etc, now's the time to tell me!!!  
> Next up is New Year's (unless there's an interest in more Christmas fluff) and then "Trust Issues" is _over _and Part 3 shall begin...  
>  I'll love you forever if you leave a comment! (Pretty please?)__


	23. Happy New Year

They had barely gotten back to the tower before the Avengers were pulled away to take down a Hydra base. Clint and Natasha offered hurried goodbyes in the elevator as they stopped at the Douglases’ floor first. 

That was two days ago, and while Miranda enjoyed the relative peace, she was starting to get antsy. Despite Jarvis’s assurances that the Avengers were all fine, and her own rationality, she was worried. 

Ridiculously worried, in her opinion. She barely knew them, and they barely knew her. And yet she was constantly asking Jarvis for an update, pacing her living room, and stress cooking. She didn’t want to think about how much food was in her kitchen, because it had gotten out of hand  _ in only two goddamn days _ . 

So really, it wasn’t that surprising that she expected the worst when Agent Hill showed up that afternoon. She felt like a uniformed officer with a telegram would have been just as obvious, before realising that a) that was a silly idea since none of the Avengers were actually military and b) Jarvis would have told her if something was wrong and c) she was not listed as next of kin for any of them anyway. 

Miranda tried to relax. She really, really did. 

“Would you like something to drink? Or eat? I kinda made a lot of food on accident,” she offered, putting the kitchen island between them. 

“How do you accidentally make food?”

“That’s a good question actually,” Miranda muttered, frowning at the counter full of baked goods. Her freezer was pretty full, too. “But seriously, would you like something?”

“I’m good, but thank you. I just came by to give you this. It’s a gift from the director,” Maria said, handing a box to Miranda. 

“What is it?” she asked, digging in a drawer for scissors to cut the box open. 

“A secure phone line, preloaded with a select few phone numbers. Just the ones that the director thought you would need.”

“This is the new director, I’m guessing? Clint said something about Fury stepping down.” 

“Stepping down is a nice way to put it. But, yes, the new director sent this.” Miranda nodded, pulling the phone out of the box and turning it on. 

“I’m kinda surprised you didn’t step up, Agent Hill.”

“The guy who got the job is better suited for it at this point in time than I am.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Miranda said, opening the contacts list. There were only five entries. 

_ April & Ervin Douglas _

_ Clint Barton _

_ Maria Hill _

_ Natasha Romanov _

_ Phil Coulson _

The fifth name made her pause. Her jaw tightened as she stared at the little digital letters. 

“Is this some kind of joke?” she hissed. “Putting my uncle’s name in here? Steve told me he was dead. Loki killed him before Manhattan.”

“It’s not a joke. In fact, it’s highly classified; that’s why the director sent me here with the phone. Steve wasn’t lying, Loki did kill him. But he’s alive now,” Maria explained. “The Avengers, however, aren’t cleared to know.” 

“What do you mean he’s alive now? People don’t magically come back from the dead,” Miranda demanded. 

“That’s classified.” 

“Of course it is,” Miranda sighed. “Why even give me his number then? What’s the new director playing at? Or is that classified, too?”

“Why don’t you call him and ask him yourself?” Maria suggested before taking her leave. Miranda stared at the short list of contacts in the phone until Ben woke up from his nap. She had some calls to make, but… not yet. Soon, but not yet.

*****

It was late that night-- early morning, really-- when the Avengers returned. Jarvis had alerted her when they were about an hour away, and she had waited on the communal floor, worrying a thumbnail between her teeth. She was starting to consider getting socks to warm up her toes when Jarvis told her that they had entered Manhattan air space. So instead of getting socks, she jumped up off the couch and waited for them to come back. 

The minutes ticked by, and she began to second-guess herself.  _ It’s barely 3 am, and I’m standing here in my pajamas-- what am I thinking? They’re not going to want to see me, they’re gonna be tired and dirty-- well, they might be hungry-- no, they’re probably going to go straight to their own floors, they won’t come here-- _

Her racing thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the Avengers. She caught herself before she rushed over to greet them, which caused her to awkwardly take a half-step forward before shrinking back into herself. 

“Welcome back,” she greeted. “There’s, uh, food in the fridge. Like,  _  a lot _ of food.” She looked over each of them, taking in the bandages and bruises. Nothing life-threatening, thank god. 

“Thanks, Andy,” Clint called as he ducked into the kitchen. Tony mumbled something that sounded similar, and he headed off to the kitchen as well. Bruce, Steve, and Natasha all hovered in sitting area. 

“Miranda, are you alright?” Bruce asked, concerned. 

“I’m fine,” she nodded. The three Avengers had a quick conversation in the form of pointed glances. Natasha practically dragged Steve out of the room as Bruce approached Miranda. He stopped on the other side of the couch. 

“Are you sure?”

“No,” Miranda admitted after a long pause. “I think it’s gonna be a long time before I’m alright. I mean, it’s only been a little over a month since…” she trailed off, chewing her lip. “But I think I’m okay. For now,” she assured him. “Go get some food before they eat all the good stuff.” 

Bruce hesitated, but, at a loss for words, conceded and headed into the kitchen to join the others. Miranda slipped away back to her floor, regretting her decision to wait up for them. 

“I’m so stupid,” she groaned into her pillow. 

_ I could have told you that, my lady. _ Tears prickled behind her eyes as she lie there frozen with the ghost of hand trailing over her arms and back.  _ You are mine, and mine alone. _

She wasn’t going to get any sleep.

*****

Somehow, Tony was able to convince everyone to have a small New Year’s party. It ended up being a nice little gathering, and Miranda was finally introduced to Pepper, Rhodey, and Sam. She didn’t get to talk to Pepper or Rhodey much, but she did get to talk to Sam. 

“So this is her, huh?” he asked as she approached after Steve had called her over to make introductions. “Your not-date?”

“Yeah, Sam, this is Miranda,” Steve introduced, a bit exasperated. “Miranda, this is Sam. He helped us out when we took DC back, and now he’s helping me find Bucky.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sam,” she said politely, shaking his hand. “Have you had any luck finding him?”

“No, nothing yet, but it’s only been a month.”

“He’s very good at disappearing, too. I mean, he  _ is  _ a ghost story, and besides, we’re not the only ones looking for him.”

“We?” Steve questioned. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t help?” she retorted. Steve opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off before he uttered a syllable. “Steve, I swear to god if you say some bullshit about it being too dangerous I will hurt you.”

“Welcome to the team,” Sam grinned as Steve just kinda stood there and stared at her for a minute. 

A few hours later, Miranda excused herself and walked over to the elevator to go to her floor. Before she could step into it, Tony popped up, blocking her path.

“Come on, we’re just about to start a game. And it’s New Year’s,” Tony insisted. 

“I’ll stay up,” Miranda said. “But I still have to put Ben to bed, so scoot,” she said, shooing him out of the way so she could get to the elevator. 

“Come straight back up.”

“Why do I have a feeling I’m about to regret this?” Tony just grinned as the elevator doors closed. “I’m so gonna regret this,” she whispered to Ben, who was struggling to keep his eyes open. 

Half an hour later, Miranda was stepping off the elevator on the communal floor to rejoin the party. She plopped down on the couch between Steve and Natasha, which was “strangely” the only open seat. 

“What kind of game is this?” she asked, taking in the row of shot glasses on the coffee table. 

“Tony missed out on sleepover games apparently,” Clint told her. “We’re playing some variant on Truth or Dare.” Miranda snorted. 

“Hey, I’m not the only one,” Tony defended. “And it’s Truth or Dare or Shot. You pick truth or dare, and if you don’t want to answer or do the dare, you take a shot.”

“This is gonna be bad,” Sam said, shaking his head, but he looked like he thought it would be fun. 

“Where’s Pepper? She’ll put a stop to this, right?” asked Bruce. Miranda had no doubts that he had been roped into this and was regretting it already. 

“Pep had an emergency business call,” Tony said. “Come on, it’s not my worst idea.” There was some muttering, but everyone agreed. Tony  _ had  _ had worse ideas. 

“What happens if we just take shots every time?” Miranda joked, whispering so only Steve heard her. “Think we win?” 

“Maybe,” he replied, grinning. “Though I don’t think you can win or lose this game.”

“Fair enough,” she grinned, settling into a more comfortable position. The game went on for quite awhile-- the questions and dares ranging from G to R-- before anyone targeted one of the three on the couch. 

“Nat, truth or dare?” Clint asked. 

“Dare,” she replied, sounding slightly bored. 

“Uh, I dare you to only speak in Russian for the next round.” 

“ достаточно легко,” she shrugged. She shifted, turning to face Miranda. “Мiranda, правда или смеют?”

“Правда,” Miranda answered, much to everyone’s surprise.

“вы находите Steve привлекательным?” Natasha asked, eyebrow raised. 

“Я мог бы сказать что-нибудь, и они не были бы не мудрее.”

“Просто ответ.”

“Да,” she responded flatly. Natasha sat back with a sat back with a satisfied smirk.

“What the hell just happened?” blurted Tony. 

“Nat asked me, I said truth, I responded. How the game works, isn’t it?” Miranda said innocently. 

“Yeah, but when did you learn Russian?”

“Bucky taught me some, and I’m using her head as a dictionary. Sorry,” she told Nat. She waved a hand to show she wasn’t bothered. “Alright, Sam, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Strawberry pancakes.”

“Done,” she grinned. 

“She’s a good cook,” Steve assured his friend. Sam nodded. 

“Okay, Steve, truth or dare?”

“Dare.” 

“I dare you to do pushups until someone else asks you.” Steve shrugged and got up off the couch. Nat wolf-whistled and Steve rolled his eyes. 

“Very funny,” he said dryly. 

“пожалуйста , я весел,” Natasha retorted. Miranda chuckled. The game went on, and Natasha switched back to English, and she asked Steve so he could stop doing push-ups (it had been at least 20 minutes and he had yet to break a sweat). “Truth or dare?”

“I’ll go with truth this time,” Steve said, wiping his palms on his pants before sitting back down. 

“Who does America’s golden boy have a crush on?” Natasha asked, a cheshire grin on her face. Steve was half smiling when he took his shot. The others voiced their disappointment. 

“Rules are rules, guys,” Miranda grinned, winking at Steve. Her smile faded as Steve looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she answered, hoping it was the safer option. 

“I dare you to tell me that story you didn’t want to share.”

“My answer is the same as then, Cap: I’m too sober,” she replied, taking a shot. “And that’s not gonna change anytime soon. Clint, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to… perch on the back of the couch for ten minutes.” He groaned, but got up from his chair and perched behind Natasha on the back of the couch. 

“Tony, truth or dare?”

“Dare.” 

“I dare you to do a push-up competition against Andy.”

“Why are you dragging me into this?” Miranda whined. 

“I’m gonna not do that,” Tony said, taking a shot. “But, Douglas, truth or dare?”

“Truth.” 

“Who has the worst nightmares?” She glared at him. He was drunk-- everyone but herself and Steve were-- but that wasn’t a good excuse. 

“That’s not for you to know,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. She took another shot. “Don’t ask me again.” She got up and walked into the quiet, empty kitchen to collect herself. 

She had gotten pretty good at ignoring her and the others’ nightmares, but Tony’s question had dredged it all up. Her skin was crawling and she felt dirty. The sensation reminded her of a trail of violets in the night, and cabin fever in July.

“Miranda?” Steve asked tentatively from the doorway. She turned around to look at him, chewing her lip. “Do you want to talk about what just happened in there?” 

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She leaned against the counter, wrapping her arms around her waist. “I probably should explain at least.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know where to start,” she sighed, throwing up her hands before fiddling with her fingers in her lap. 

“How about you put me on the same page Tony’s on.” She took another deep breath. 

“When I have nightmares, um, I… I think that they’re real. Cause I have trouble telling the difference between real and not. And so I, uh, I reach out. To all of you, for help. And then my brain steals your nightmares, I guess. I’m sorry, I can’t help it,” she said, voice cracking. She wiped away the stray tears that ran down her cheeks. “I know it’s an invasion of privacy-- that’s why I didn’t say anything, I didn’t want anyone to feel violated or something--”

“Then why did Tony know?” Steve asked. 

“It just kinda happened. It was a spur of the moment confession, and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, I know I should of. I just, I didn’t know what to say.”

“Like with Bucky.”

“Yeah, like that,” she agreed, glancing up at him. His initial anger was subsiding, but it was still there in the tight line of his shoulders and jaw. “But I have no more control over this than I do breathing.” She paused, chewing on her lip. “I really am sorry. I understand if you don’t believe me, though. I have a history of withholding things, and they end up endangering your team, and--” She cut herself off, taking another deep, shaky breath. “I’m just gonna go to bed,” she said abruptly, pushing off the counter with her hips.

“Wait,” Steve said softly, putting a hand out to stop her as she passed by. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.” 

“Steve, please,” she whispered. 

“No, Miranda, let me say my part. I forgive you; I understand, okay? Yes, I’m angry about it, but not because you didn’t say anything.” She looked up at him. “I’m angry because Tony shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“You’re not mad at me?” she asked, disbelief coloring her words. 

“No, I’m not. I’ll talk to him about it later; though I think everyone else jumped to your defense after we left the room.”

“You’ve never been one to walk away from a wrong that needs to be righted,” she snorted.

“No, I suppose I haven’t,”  he replied, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Especially where my friends are involved.” 

“I know everyone’s been giving us a hard time, but I really do just want to be friends,” Miranda said, shrinking into herself a little, embarrassed. 

“So do I.” They both smiled, relaxing a bit. No more dancing around the idea of dating. They could move forward in their friendship now, unhindered. Well, aside from their ship-happy friends, that is. 

A loud noise in the other room drew their attention. Miranda’s eyes snapped over to the clock after a brief moment. She grinned. 

“Midnight,” she said. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” Steve replied. “Here’s hoping it’s a good one.”

“I can second that,” Miranda laughed. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand that's a wrap! Part 2 is done. Part 3 will be up... soon.  
> Thank you so much for reading! If you've liked the series so far, please leave a comment! Even the tiniest piece of feedback makes it easier to keep writing!  
> Thanks to everyone that's left kudos! It's encouraging to know that people like what I write.  
> Edit: I realised I forgot to translate the Russian! Here goes:  
> N: Easy enough. Miranda, truth or dare?  
> M: Truth.  
> N: Do you find Steve attractive?  
> M: I could say anything and they would be none the wiser.  
> N: Just answer.  
> M: Yes.  
> N: Please, I'm hilarious.
> 
> Update: Part 3 "We'll Face Our Demons (Together)" is posted. (8/17/16 8:13pm Central)


End file.
